Kidnapped: Found
by Enola
Summary: Part 3: It's been 6 years since Peter was taken away from everyone he loved.
1. Pirate Boy

A/N: This is part 3 of a series, so if you haven't read Kidnapped: Taken and Kidnapped: Captive, you should go back and read those first. Part 3 picks up 6 years after the end of Captive, and you're going to be a tad confused if you start here.

Chapter 1

The sun shone brightly over the bay, making the waves sparkle like diamonds. A warm breeze blew, providing a pleasant reminder that spring was here. The port city was a bustle of activity, with the multitude of ships that were entering and leaving providing testament that this was a center of trade. A medium sized ship, notable only for its elaborate aft, held its place at the mouth of the bay. Onboard, the men were going about their duties cheerfully, singing as they hauled the lines and performed their duties. They had every reason to be happy. They had just returned from a very profitable run and were looking forward to spending their shares in the port city.

Of course, the Captain was holding most of their shares, since he didn't want his men drawing attention to themselves. What would the local authorities think if they found a few scurvy-looking sea-salts spending a lord's ransom on booze and whores? They would think the men were pirates, and they would be correct. Neither the Captain nor his crew wanted to swing because one of their men got careless. They all knew from experience that leaving their loot with the Captain was the best course; they could splurge their earnings when they signed off the ship or when they were in a lesser port.

"All clear!" came the call from the crow's nest. "No sign of navy ships, except for the normal port patrol."

"Ay, ay, lad," the bosun called back. "Now get yerself down 'ere and help the men put to port!"

"Ay, bosun!" the youth called back.

Suddenly, the air was rent with a panicked scream from above. The men on deck looked up in alarm and watched, horrified as the youth tumbled from the crow's nest.

"Saints preserve us!" gasped the bosun.

At the last moment, the boy's arms reached out and snagged a line. He flipped over and around it, killing his momentum before swinging to the yard arm. He swung over that, did a handstand, then dropped lightly to the deck. He laughed in delight at the stunned expressions on the men's faces and bowed. The men, relieved, chuckled and went back to their duties.

"Mr. Hook! Ye'll give me a heart attack! I'm not a young lad like ya are! The Cap'n would keel-haul me if anythin' happens to ya on me watch."

"Top o' the mornin' to you, too, Mr. Smee!" the youth replied with a cocky grin. "Cheer up! We can get off this crate for awhile and go see the sights. Maybe Mullins will get in a fight again."

"Ye likes fightin' too much lad…" Mr. Smee began, when suddenly the door to the captain's cabin flew open with a bang.

"PETER! My quarters, NOW!" roared a deep voice from within.

Peter Hook's face blanched and his grin vanished. "Ay, ay, Captain Hook, sir!" he called back. He looked at Smee worriedly and whispered, "Do you think he saw me?"

"Most likely. Ya know ya can't get away with nothin' round him, I dunno why ya still try," Smee whispered back with a knowing smile. "Now hurry lad, and be careful, or he'll cancel yer shore leave."

Peter nodded and quickly made his way to where the pirate captain waited. He saw his shipmates watching, but only Mason would look him in the eye. The large carpenter winked and wished him luck, and then Peter stepped inside.

Mr. Smee watched as the youth disappeared into the cabin and closed the door behind him. He chuckled as he went back to steering the ship. "That boy! He makes the Cap'n proud, he does. He'll make a fine man one day, if the Cap'n don't kill 'em first."

"Father?" Peter asked softly as he entered the room.

"Close the door," Captain James Hook growled softly. Peter obeyed quickly and stood quietly, awaiting his captain. He knew he needed to be careful and not anger the man further. He didn't want to jeopardize his time off the ship. _Why did I do that? It seemed like a good idea. And it was so funny seeing the look on their faces. But now Father is angry._ He never liked to get his father angry. Hook was a lot bigger than Peter, and his temperament was unpredictable. Hook was just as likely to pat him on the back for that stunt as he was to whip him for it. Peter wasn't afraid of Hook, but he did fear disappointing the man. He wanted his father to approve of him. _He's the only family I have._

Hook sat at his desk and stared at the youth. He could see the worry on Peter's face. Part of him felt satisfaction seeing it there. _Let him agonize for a bit, maybe he'll think next time before doing that again._ Another part of him sympathized with the boy and felt shamed at his pleasure in Peter's discomfort. He took a moment to study the boy – young man – standing before him.

Peter stood straight and tall before the Captain's desk. He was a handsome youth. Brown, slightly curly hair, pulled back into a pony tail that ended between his shoulder blades; startling blue eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. He was nearly grown, and by Captain Hook's reckoning, would be close to sixteen years old – physically. But it was hard to tell, Peter seemed to be a different age every time he looked at him. At the least, he could be fourteen, but Hook suspected it was closer to sixteen.

_He's grown so much the past six years, _Hook mused as he continued to glower at the boy._ He's becoming a man, and a fine one at that. There's still a lot of Pan in him, though. He's cocky, willful, mischievous … everything I hated in him before. Not anymore, though. He's _my _boy now, and I love him._

Finally, Hook sighed. "What am I going to do with you? Do you know how much you frightened me? You know you aren't supposed to pull stunts like that; my ship is NOT a playground! Every man on this ship would lay down his life for you – and you endanger it with your showing off!" Peter's face flushed at that and he bowed his head in shame. Remembering the fear that had frozen his heart when he saw Peter fall, Hook felt himself grow even angrier. "When will you learn? Are you _ever_ going to grow up?" he roared. He stood and slammed his hook into the desk, gouging it. Peter jumped and his eyes grew larger. In a cold, calm voice, Hook continued, "maybe I should give you some time to reflect. Maybe I should punish you by suspending your shore leave, indefinitely."

Peter's face went deathly white. He imagined another few weeks (or, dear God, _months_) aboard ship. Salt air, waves, rations, Cookson's food… the thought of that made him sick. He longed with all his heart for green trees, fresh air, solid earth, ripe fruit – and a little time of true solitude in the forest outside the city.

"Please, Father, no!" he begged, "I can't stay here any longer. I _have_ to get off this ship! I'm sorry for what I did, but I was just so happy to know we were here… I felt like I could fly!" Peter closed his mouth quickly. His father allowed no nonsense from him, and got angry when Peter said foolish things. Certain subjects, like fairies, magic, dragons, flying people, angered the man to the point that Peter wasn't even allowed to read fairy tale stories. He didn't know where these notions came from; he thought perhaps he dreamt them, but he never remembered his dreams. Not even his nightmares, which were frequent.

But Hook didn't seem to mind his slip, so he continued. "I love the _Jolly Roger_, and I'm proud to be a part of her crew. But I'm not a true salt like Mullins. I miss the land. It's odd – I don't remember living on land, just shore leaves, but I know I did once." He realized he was babbling and shaking. He took a few breaths to calm himself and waited for Hook to mete out his punishment.

Hook sighed, the anger leaving him when he saw how pale Peter was. _He needs off, soon. It's dangerous to keep him more than a few more days._ "I know lad," Hook said soothingly. "Sit and let's talk." He waited while Peter took a chair across from him. "I know being ship-bound for too long is hard on you. I won't keep you here, but," he added quickly when he saw Peter's eyes light up, "I can't let you off. I can't let you get by with things. You're my son, but I can't treat you differently in front of the men. If I do, then they'll resent you and you'll lose their respect." _I know - it's a hard lesson I learned from my own brother._

"Yes, sir," Peter interjected, "'And whether through fear or love, a proper Captain must always have his men's respect, or they'll turn on him like jackals'," Peter intoned in an exact mimicry of Hook's voice. He even held up his right hand, first finger extended and crooked as an imaginary hook.

"You know I hate it when you do that," Hook growled, his smile contradicting the tone of his voice. "It's one of your more irritating abilities."

"But Father, I only do it because I want to be just like you!" Peter said with a chuckle.

"Be serious, boy!" Hook snapped.

Peter sobered up. "But I am. I DO want to be like you. But I'm not," he looked down and said no more.

Hook knew what he was saying, but did not comment. Peter knew that there were questions that his father and the crew would not discuss with him: if Hook was his father, why did they look nothing alike; who was his mother and what happened to her; where was he born. He had no memories prior to about six years ago, and everyone else seemed happy to leave it that way. He resented the secrets, but learned long ago it was better not to ask.

"Now, back to your transgressions, boy. I know you were trying to change the subject. You and I will stay aboard today and tonight, while the rest of the crewmen go ashore," Peter's shoulders sagged, "and we will have lessons. Mr. Mullins and most of the others will return tonight, and in the morning you may go ashore."

Peter stared at his knees, "Ay, sir."

"Dismissed," Hook replied and pretended to go back to writing in his logs. He surreptitiously watched Peter as he trudged to the door. "Peter," he called and the boy turned, "I haven't had to lay a hand to you in a long time, nearly a year. But if you would rather, I'll give you a dozen with the cat and let you go with them when we reach shore." Hook seriously didn't know which the boy would take, but if Peter really _needed_ to get off ship, he should give the boy a way out.

Peter considered for a second, then shook his head. "No, father, one more night won't kill me." He gave a bit of a smile, "Maybe we'll play chess or practice swordplay. We'll have the ship all to ourselves."

Hook nodded, "That will be nice for a change." Peter nodded back and left.

_Father,_ Hook mused. _I never get tired of hearing him say that. Who would have thought that I, James Hook would ever have a child… a child that loved me and that I loved in return… or that that child would be Peter Pan?_ Chuckling at the ironies of life, he returned to filling out his logs.

"Peter!" Billy Jukes called when he saw Peter exit the Captain's quarters.

Peter flashed his friend a warm smile and walked over to where he was working.

"So?" Billy asked, "What's the verdict? Are we still gonna have fun tonight?"

"No," Peter sighed, "I'm ship-bound until tomorrow. Everyone else can go; Cap'n and I will keep watch until we're relieved tonight."

Billy swore, "Damn it! Well… I guess I'll stay here today, too. We'll celebrate tomorrow!"

Peter shook his head, "No, Billy. I'm being punished, and what kind of punishment would it be if my best friend kept me company." _Besides, I'm looking forward to some time alone with father._ Peter was still very disappointed about having to stay behind; he would have loved to go with Billy. They and the other men would definitely have raised hell.

Even though he was the youngest member of the crew, the other men appreciated having him with them. Peter drank little and never got drunk, so he was their level head when they were inebriated. He had sharp eyes and ears, and on several occasions had picked up tips that helped them avoid hazards (like blockades and ambushes) or further their pocketbooks (Peter was an excellent pickpocket). And, even Hook grudgingly admitted, Peter was the best fighter on the ship. He wasn't nearly as strong as Hook or Mason, or even Mullins (though he wasn't weak, either). He was just so damn quick, no one could keep up. His speed coupled with his acrobatic ability meant he could hit an enemy several times and avoid their blows – most of the time.

"Well," Billy chuckled, "I guess if I don't go, Cap'n will just toss me overboard. Ah, well, I was going to introduce you to a very special lady tonight. Me 'n the other mates chipped in."

Peter sighed, "Good thing I'm NOT going, then."

"Aw, Pete, you don't know what yer missin'!" Mason gave Peter a pat on the back that almost knocked him over. "We're gonna make a man of ya one of these days. 'Sides, it's yer birthday present, since we were at sea when it came."

"Ay, Peter," Jukes added, "you have to accept, 'cause it's a gift. You don't wanna hurt our feelings." He saw the conflict in Peter's eyes and pressed on, "I happen to know a lass here, Marissa, who definitely had her eyes on you last time. I'll bet she'd give you a birthday kiss for free."

Peter blushed. Why didn't they just leave him alone? It wasn't that he didn't like girls. No, he was very interested. But, he sensed danger there, and he was afraid of crossing that line. He wanted to become a man in their eyes, to gain their full measure of respect and camaraderie. But, he also felt he wasn't ready yet, and that if he did that, he could never go back. Back to where, he didn't know, but it was important.

Starkey walked up and put in his two cents, "Petey boy, what's the matter? Don't you like the ladies? What are you, a fairy?"

"Shut up, Starkey!" Mason growled and thumped Starkey on the head. Everyone else grew quiet. Starkey had said one of _those_ words, which everyone knew were forbidden. Hook's greatest fear was that Peter would remember who he was and what had been done to him. No one was to say anything that could jog a memory, and stories about events that happened in Neverland were forbidden. Ships were not conducive to privacy, and you never knew if Peter might be in earshot. And no one ever said how Hook lost his hand; just that it was in a battle with his greatest enemy and Hook didn't want it spoken of.

Peter, meanwhile, had gone very quiet. They saw the gleam in his eyes and knew Starkey had struck a nerve. Peter drew his sword and slowly advanced on the man.

"S-sorry, Peter," quavered Starkey as he backed away. _Why in the world did I say that, knowing he's been ship-bound too long and in one of his moods. _He knew better than to draw his own sword. Peter wouldn't kill him, Peter only killed if he had no choice, but the boy was known to be cruel in his battles if he was angry.

"S-sorry, Peter," Peter mimicked in Starkey's voice. Starkey moaned, recognizing the bad sign. In moments, Peter had driven the man against the mainmast and held him there with the point of his sword at his throat. "I don't know what I am, no thanks to the rest of you. Maybe I am a fairy, but not in the sense you used the word. Maybe Father isn't my father and you have all lied to me."

Billy reached out and put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "He was just teasing. You know we all stand with you, Peter. The Cap'n has his reasons for not telling you anything. The past is painful, and he thinks it's better for you not to remember. If we wanted to hurt you, we'd tell you what you want to know."

Peter blinked, realizing what he was doing, and put away his sword. "I'm sorry, Starkey," he said earnestly and offered the man his hand. Starkey took it with a sigh of relief and a smile. "I'm not myself," he continued, "I need some steady ground for a bit to steady _myself_. I appreciate your gift, guys, but I'm just not ready for that. Go, have fun, toast my health tonight and stay out of too much trouble. Cap'n won't be happy if he has to let me out of my punishment so we can break you out of prison. We'll have fun tomorrow."

Soon, the ship was docked and the gangplank was lowered. Peter stood by the railing and watched his mates go ashore for rest and recreation. "Give 'em Hell!" he called as they disappeared into the crowds. He stood by the railing for a long time and stared at the shore, thinking.

Captain Hook stood in the doorway, watching Peter as he stood by the railing. "Well, my boy," he called as he walked towards the youth, "care for some exercise?"

Peter turned and faced his father. _God, he looks so young!_ Hook thought in amazement, and not for the first time. He'd often wondered how much fairy magic clung to Peter (or to the rest of them for that matter). How else could it be that even after six years in the mortal realm could Peter still be so ageless. Were it not for his height, Hook would swear that this was the little boy he had brought aboard and adopted as his own, and not the teen that called him Father.

Hook knew that when Peter was in this state, when his innate magic shone through so strongly, he was most susceptible to memories. Peter would sometimes say things that indicated he remembered a bit. A few times, Pan had struck out at him, but it had been awhile since that last incident. Later, Peter would not remember what he'd said, or any memories he had recovered. Instead, he would be left only with a vague impression of jumbled images. The best thing Hook knew to do in these potentially dangerous situations was to distract the boy.

"Come, son, you need the practice," he teased, knowing that Peter was the best sword on the ship.

Peter nodded slowly, not returning with his own comment, and drew his sword. They fell to and began their workout.

Hook soon discovered that Peter wasn't concentrating on the fight. Even on his best day, he knew he couldn't beat the boy in an honest fight. When Peter had been Pan, Hook only held his own because the child didn't know the proper way to fight with a blade. Pan's youth and agility were pitted against Hook's experience and strength. Since joining the crew, Hook had seen to it that Peter got formal training in weaponry. Now Peter's agility and speed were coupled with the strength and experience to make the most of it. Hook still challenged Peter because he still had an advantage, an ability that Peter could not and would not learn: Hook fought dirty.

Now, however, Hook wasn't using a single trick. Peter had missed several openings and wasn't doing more than going through the motions. The boy wasn't even taunting him, as he usually did. _He's not concentrating, he's being sloppy. I'm going to have to make a point,_ Hook thought. He growled angrily and picked up the pace. He put Peter through a flurry of moves and counters. Too late, Peter tried to focus on the fight and save himself. In moments, Peter was disarmed. In another moment, Hook had knocked the feet out from under the youth. Peter lay on his back and looked up at the point of Hook's sword only an inch from his eye.

"That was unacceptable, Mr. Hook," the Captain stated flatly. "I hope you were not trying to insult me by denying me your complete attention. Do I have your attention now?"

Peter gasped, the wind having been knocked from him when he hit the deck. "My apologies, Captain. It won't happen again," he replied.

Hook looked at the boy, but did not remove the weapon. He could see the embarrassment in his face and knew he did indeed have his son's complete attention now. Finally, he nodded and sheathed his sword.

Peter let out the breath he'd been holding. He remained on the deck until Hook held his hand out to help him up. When the Captain was making his point, you didn't move until he gave you leave. Peter took the offered hand and stood up.

"Shall we try again?" Hook challenged.

Peter gave him a wicked grin. "Ay, Captain. I won't go easy on you this time." They fell to again and this time Peter gave Hook his full, unwavering attention.


	2. Past and Future

Later, the two sat in the shade of the mainsail, cooling off.  Peter winced as he flexed his arm, suspecting he'd have a nice bruise later on from where Hook had hit him.  He smiled at his father happily.  He loved to match skills with his father, and sparring had been his favorite past-time for as long as he could remember.  "I'd hate to ever face you in a real battle, sir," he commented.  "If you'd pull those tricks on your own flesh and blood, I'd hate to see what you'd do to your enemy."

Hook smiled, "Yes, you would hate to see it.  Just as I would hate to be someone you were out to kill."

"I don't try to kill," Peter replied.

"To your disadvantage.  I've seen you in real fights.  You play too much.  You could dispatch three men for every one you don't kill."

"No, Father, I can't kill unnecessarily.  Not even for you."

Hook remained silent.  This was an old argument, and it wasn't going to be settled right now.  He remembered the first time Peter had killed a man in his father's service.  Hook had been ecstatic.  Peter had been with them for a little over a year, and had joined them in his first battle, eager to prove his worth.  When he'd found the boy standing over his kill, blood on his sword and his hands, he had praised Peter to no end, delighting in an act that took away some of his innocence.  Then he'd felt the horror the boy held and realized something was wrong.  Beside the dead man lay an equally dead boy, not much younger than Peter.  Later, Hook had learned then when Peter had killed the man, the grief-stricken cabin-boy (the man's son) had attacked Peter.  When Peter tried to disarm the boy to take him prisoner, the child ran himself through on Peter's sword.

Peter didn't speak a word for a month afterwards, and had nightmares every single night.  He'd worked with Peter all that time, finding ways to assuage the boy's guilt and convince him he'd done it in self-defense, until finally the boy again spoke.  Hook had banned Peter from combat for the next two years, making the child sit out the battles below decks or in the cabin.  The trauma never truly left the boy, and the ghost of the child Peter had killed tempered his sword even now.

Now, when Peter fought in a battle or a bar brawl, the boy took extraordinary pains to spare his opponent.  He would goad the man, hoping to humiliate him and make him realize he didn't stand a chance.  That actually worked often, the other man running away with a few cuts or non-lethal stab wounds.  If he couldn't make the other man yield, he'd try to knock him unconscious or otherwise incapacitate him.  But even with his efforts, there had been a few times the other man wouldn't stop and Peter had been alone.  Those had been the few times Peter had killed – when he had no other choice.

_Peter will never truly be a pirate,_ Hook finally admitted to himself.  He'd thought this before, but he'd never allowed himself to accept it.  Making Pan a pirate had been his truest goal, to make him into Hook's image.  But he knew deep down it could not now happen.  Once long ago he might have twisted the child so.  But he'd come to love the precocious boy even before he'd taken away Peter's memories and adopted him as his own son.  Once he'd begun to care for Peter, he could not do the things to him that would have made him cruel and hard like Hook.

"Peter, what do you dream of?" the man asked, looking at Peter critically.

"I don't remember my dreams, sir," Peter answered, as if by rote.  Once, the men would often ask him what he'd dreamt of, when they heard him screaming in his sleep.  His answer was always the same, "I don't remember", and it was true.

"No, Peter, I mean what do you want to do with the rest of your life?"

"I'm a pirate," Peter replied, but his voice sounded uncertain.

"No," Hook sighed and leaned closer to the boy.  "You're not a pirate.  You're not mean enough.  You're not a killer.  You only fight with us because you stand by your crew.  You only want to be a pirate because you don't know anything else to be."

"I've never thought about it," he said hesitantly.  "I just figured I'd stay with you, sir."

"Son, I won't be pirating forever," Hook said.  He chuckled at the look of disbelief on Peter's face and nodded.  "One day I may retire.  I have enough of a stash to retire and be very comfortable, but I like what I do and retirement would be boring.  I'll retire when I am unable to keep my crew in line and hold my own in a fight.  Or I may die in a battle or be captured and hung."

"They've caught you before and I came for you.  Let them try it again, and I'll have no problem killing, then," Peter growled, remembering a previous run-in with the law.

"I know, lad.  I have no fear of hanging as long as you are with me.  But the fact of the matter is that you are young and I am old.  Between what I can leave you as an inheritance and what you've gotten as your own share, you could live comfortably for quite awhile.  If invested properly, you could make a fortune to last a lifetime.  But what would you _like to do?  Don't answer to make me happy.  What I've always envisioned for you isn't what's best."_

Peter didn't reply.  Inside, he was in turmoil.  He'd never thought much about the future, nothing much beyond the next port.  The ship and its crew were all he had ever known.  It was inconceivable that it should ever change.

Hook smiled, seeing that his son was (for once) taking things seriously and giving his words considerable thought.  "You don't have to decide now.  You've got a few years yet.  But I want to make sure you consider your possibilities.  If something happens to me, I want you to make it on your own."  _God, I don't know what my death will do to you.  We are bound together by the spell I used on you, and I pray that when I die it doesn't kill you too.  "I know you don't want to grow up, Peter.  You never did.  Even as a small child you resisted fate.  But you can't stop time, so you have to face the future and prepare."_

"Ay, sir," Peter said, giving his father a grin.

Hook ruffled the youth's hair, one of the rare affectionate gestures he could give the boy.  "You know, if you get a mind for it, I will send you to a university.  I myself am an educated man, and it would benefit you greatly.  You'd have a hard time fitting in, but people generally take a liking to you once they get the chance. You're intelligent, you have a perfect memory…" Peter snorted at that.  "You do," Hook continued, "and you learn quickly.  You can do anything you want.  Whatever you decide to do, I will support you."

"Ay, sir.  Thank you," Peter said softly.  He was genuinely amazed at his father's uncharacteristic openness and honesty.  He knew he had a lot to think about later.

Hook stood and offered Peter his hook.  "Come on.  It will be sunset soon, and some of the men will begin returning shortly after that.  Let's get some supper before they raid the larder.  Cookson's bringing more supplies aboard in the morning, so no rations tonight."

Peter grinned and took the hook.  "Supper it is, father," he said, "shall you cook or shall I?"

"You cook, dear boy.  Cookson's fare is better than the sludge I turn out," Hook said wryly.

Fairly dancing on the way to the galley, Peter turned and winked at the captain.  "Oh, Dad, it's not that bad.  You didn't know that the berries were poisonous."

"Peter, don't patronize me," Hook growled, but his grin showed he was playing.  "Those were blackberries."

"Well, they were poisonous by time you got done with them," Peter laughed and leapt out of the way of the man's swipe.  Together they went to scrounge up their supper.

Later that evening, man and youth sat in their cabin, battling this time with their wits as they maneuvered the chess pieces across the board.  Since Peter was the cabin-boy, he shared a room with his Captain.  This had been the arrangement for as long as he could remember, and it gave the two their only opportunities to be informal around one another.  On deck was on duty, and his father was Captain while on duty, while Peter was Mr. Hook.

Peter considered the board for awhile before he moved his bishop.  He loved chess.  He loved matching wits with opponents, and his favorite opponent was his father.  Hook employed both cunning and brute strength, and you never knew which you were going to encounter.  _He is a very unpredictable man.  He is a good father and he loves me.  But he is a stern Captain, and as much as I love him, I know he can be cruel even to those he likes.  He is a great strategist and a careful planner, but I've seen him enraged beyond rational thought.  Then he uses his strength and anger to destroy what he fights._  Peter smiled to himself.  _That's his greatest weakness; he's most deadly when he's calm. _

Peter loved to tease his opponents, evoking that anger and frustration within them.  Then they were most likely to make a mistake he could exploit.  His father was no exception.  Peter knew which buttons to push to get him upset.  But he watched himself more with his father.  He knew there was a point he couldn't cross.  He could frustrate his father more easily than anyone else could, and provoke him to anger quickly.  In that state, his father seemed to forget who Peter was, and looked at him with a strange light in his eyes.  In that instance, a play session could become a true fight for his life.  It had happened occasionally, and the crew would have to intervene.  Peter absently rubbed his left shoulder, just above his tattoo, remembering the near deadly wound he had received from his father when he had pushed the man way too far.

_Three years ago?  Wow, time flies._  Peter had been practicing with Hook and he had been doing well.  He had gotten cocky, and he and the captain were hurling insults at each other.  Somehow he had managed a move that even _he couldn't believe he had done – it had seemed for an instant he had floated – and he knocked the sword from the man's grasp.  He was so pleased, he had crowed like a rooster.  He didn't know where the idea to do that had come from, it just seemed natural.  But the effect on Hook had been instantaneous.  _

Hook had lunged for Peter, snarling and swearing death to "that damned brat".  He'd caught Peter by the throat and buried his hook in Peter's shoulder, the claw piercing him just behind the collarbone and hooking around it.  Mason and Mullins both had had to pry the Captain off.  It wasn't until Mullins shouted "He's your son!" that Hook came back to himself.  Peter didn't remember much about the time shortly after that.  He remembered the pain, but he also remembered his father caring for him.  Hook, Smee and Jukes – the three people that he cared for the most – were always there when he needed them.  He'd bled a lot from the wound, and some thought he would lose the use of his left arm.  But he had healed amazingly fast, and Hook and Jukes had helped him exercise enough to recover his full mobility quickly.

Hook moved his rook. _ Almost got him, he thought.  "Your move," he said aloud and looked up to see Peter rubbing his shoulder.  "Are you alright?  It's not bothering you is it?"  Every regret he had in his life but one revolved around the things he'd done to Peter.  Twice he'd scarred Peter's shoulder when he'd almost killed the boy.  The scar Peter was rubbing was from when he'd nearly crippled his son, but the "tattoo" Peter had was the evidence of the worst thing he'd ever done to the boy (and the worst thing he'd ever done to another human being)._

"Hmm? … umm, no.  It hasn't bothered me in a long time.  I was just thinking," Peter glanced at the board and moved a knight.  "Checkmate," he said with a cocky grin.

"What?" Hook stared at the board, trying to disprove Peter.  After a few moments, he conceded and knocked his king on its side.

"One to one.  Best two out of three?" Peter asked.  Hook nodded and they began resetting the pieces.

"Father," Peter began tentatively, "the men wanted to give me my belated birthday present today."

Hook nodded as he picked up his glass of brandy.

"They… wanted to buy me a whore," Peter blurted, turning very red.

Captain Hook nearly choked on his drink.  He sputtered and coughed for a few seconds.  His coughs turned to laughter, which only intensified when he saw the blush on the boy's face.

"It's not funny!" Peter cried indignantly.  "Did you know?"

"I wish I had.  I'd have tossed in some gold of my own to get you two lasses."

"WHAT?"

Hook grinned evilly.  "Well, a boy's first time should be memorable."

Peter looked away sullenly, "I wish I hadn't brought it up."

"Then why did you?"

Peter sighed, "I don't know.  I guess I wanted some advice.  Today Starkey asked me if I was a fairy."

Hook felt white hot anger well up inside.  What the man had suggested was bad enough, his choice of words was inexcusable.  "That was exceptionally stupid of him," he replied in a very tight voice.

Peter looked up in alarm as he felt his father's anger.  _He must be upset, I haven't sensed him in a long time.  "Please, father, don't be angry with him.  He was only teasing me.  I thought I was going to kill him though.  Billy stopped me.  Am I unnatural, Father?  Is there something wrong with me?"_

Hook wrenched his mind away from thoughts of flaying Mr. Starkey alive and looked at Peter.  _He wants so badly to fit in.  He's tried so hard, he's had a lot of catching up to do. _ For the most part, Peter had done a wonderful job.  It was just his quirks – his aversion to sex (though he was a fabulous flirt, and the girls fought over his attention) and killing (though he was a master of the blade and not yet grown), his nightmares which came less frequently now but as intensely as ever, and his yearly illness which came without fail on the same day every year and never failed to almost kill him.  _He doesn't belong here._

Aloud, he said, "You're not unnatural, Peter.  Any man that says that will answer to me.  You are different.  You don't remember most of your childhood, so you want to hold on to the remnants for as long as you can.  I'd like to see you become a man.  I've pushed you to grow up for a long time.  I've seen the man you will be, and I can't wait to meet him."  He sighed, "I'd like you to find a lady one day and get married.  Give me some grandchildren and a reason to retire.  But you shouldn't do it until you're ready.  I had to grow up too soon, and it's made me a hard, bitter man.  I envy you your youth because I miss my own.  I don't want you to be like me, I want you to be happy."

"I am happy.  I love my shipmates and this ship.  I can't think of any place I'd rather be."

Hook frowned, picturing the laughing, eternal child that once flew through the skies of Neverland.  "You were happier once, long ago," he murmured.  "I took that away from you."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked suspiciously.  As much as he loved and respected his father, he still felt resentment for the secrets the man kept from him.  He was insatiably curious about his past, and collected the tidbits of information Hook or a crewman would leak out occasionally.  It was rare, and even after six years he had no answers.

Hook shook his head, realizing his mistake.  "No, I've said too much."

"Why do you keep the truth from me?" Peter snapped, his anger overriding his caution.

"I'll not speak on it any longer, boy," Hook growled warningly.  "You know better than to ask.  It's too painful for you to hear.  It's not your fault I slipped, but do not press me!"

Peter stood angrily, "You want me to be a man, yet you treat me like a child!  I have a right to know!"  He suddenly looked at the man, a whisper in his mind feeding him a suspicion.  "What is so horrible that you would keep ten years of my life from me?  What did you do?  Are you afraid I'll remember and hate you?"

That was too close to the mark.  Hook leaped to his feet and backhanded Peter.  Peter dropped to the floor like a rock, stunned.  He gingerly pressed his hand to his cheek and stared at his father stupidly.  Tears burned in his eyes and his face stung.

Hook loomed over the boy, forcing himself to breathe deeply and calm.  "Go.  Now.  Before I do something we both regret."

Slowly Peter got to his feet, and backed away from the large man cautiously.  Hook watched as the boy stumbled to the door and fumbled with the handle.  _I rang his bell harder than I intended.  Damn it!  How do I always manage to hurt him so much?  After several tries, Peter finally got the door opened._

"Peter," Hook called.  The youth froze, and he continued, "Goodnight, son."

Peter stood a second longer, shaking in anger, then continued out the door without a word or a glance back.

Hook snarled and knocked the chess board to the floor.  He went to his bed and sat.  _What will_ I do if he remembers.  What will _he__ do? Idiot, I know what he'll do:  he'll try to kill me.  Will I be able to kill him first?  Should_ I?_  These were questions Hook had asked himself a thousand times since he adopted Peter Pan as Peter Hook.  He suddenly felt very old and very tired.  _I never should have taken him.  I would do it again, because I'm selfish.  But then, I've always taken what I wanted, regardless of right or wrong.  Damn that boy, for making me feel guilty for something I'm glad I've done!__

Peter strode across the deck angrily.  He was glad it was dark and the few men on night-watch couldn't see the tears he couldn't stop.  There was only one place he could go and be alone.  He climbed the rigging to the crow's-nest, which he knew would be empty now that they were in port.  He wanted privacy right now, and didn't want to put up with the jeers of the crew when they saw his swollen face.

_He'll never tell me.  _Peter had known better than ask.  Hook had told him long ago that he would never tell Peter anything, that he'd have to remember on his own.  But lately he'd begun to feel like it was more and more urgent that he remember.  He felt like time was running out.  _If I don't know soon, it will be too late. _ Too late for what, he didn't know, but he knew it was important.  Once he made it into the crow's nest, he began to feel calmer.  

This was his favorite place on the entire ship.  He felt free up here, away from the damp and the smells.  He hated being below deck.  The dank, cramped quarters and lack of privacy gave him an acute sense of claustrophobia.  Too long down there and he became irritable and mean tempered – more like the captain.  Up here, he could breathe and feel like himself.  Here he could think more clearly.  Sometimes, he could almost remember things.  He wondered if he stayed up here long enough, would he remember his past, but to stay that long would be impossible.  Captain Hook let him have duty up here because he had the best eyes and head for heights, but he'd didn't like the cabin-boy to stay up for long periods.

_He's angry, so he won't look for me tonight.  He knows I'll only antagonize him more.  He'll expect me to sleep in the crew quarters, but he didn't say I had to.  I'll stay up here till morning._  Peter looked at the city lights before him.  Beyond it was a darkness Peter knew to be a forest – a very beautiful, old forest.  He loved walking among trees and climbing in their limbs.  Shore leave for him meant more that getting off the ship:  he had to get away from people and into the wild for a little while.  Staring at the forest so close yet so out of reach, he felt a pang in his chest.  He knew from experience that he couldn't stay at sea for long.  Without shore leave, his nightmares would get worse and he would eventually become ill.  _I hope the Captain's not still angry tomorrow.  If he keeps me aboard, I won't make it through the next voyage.  _

The throbbing in his head intensified and he began to feel dizzy.  He sat down, but that didn't help so he laid down and closed his eyes.  The vertigo lessened, so he remained still, shivering a bit in the cool night air.  _I should have brought a blanket.  I hate being cold._  Despite the chill, in a few minutes Peter was fast asleep.

Hook was sleeping soundly when a loud noise brought him awake.  Someone was pounding on his door and calling for him.  He got out of bed, pulled on his pants, and strode to the door.  _The ship had better be sinking or that man is dead,_ he thought irritably.

Mr. Simmons, a man who had been with them for nearly a year, was standing outside the door.  He looked frightened, but he stood his ground before the very angry, very large Captain.  "Cap'n sir!  I sorry ta wake ya, but Meester Hook is havin one o' is dreams.  I try ta wake 'im, but 'e won't.  'Es got 'is knife an' 'e cut me when I try ta get 'im down."  

Hook frowned and noticed the wounded arm the man was clutching.  Blood seeped from the man's fingers and dripped onto the deck.  "Down?" Hook asked in confusion, but then he heard a cry from above.  "Peter is up there?"

"Ay, sir."

_I'm going to flay that boy alive!_  "Go tend your arm and have someone bring me rope."

Simmons bent down and picked up a short coil of rope.  "I gots some 'ere, sir.  I think'd if'n I could get 'im down, I should 'ave some rope in case I drops 'im."

"Good man," Hook took the rope from him and strode to the mast.  _I should make sure I keep this man, he's brighter than he sounds.  He began to climb to the crow's nest, wondering what he was going to do with his son._

He could hear Peter moaning and crying out.  Every once in awhile, he would say something, but Hook couldn't make out the words.  _What's he dreaming of?  Neverland?  His mother?  The monster that killed her?  Me?_  Hook knew there were many things that had happened to Peter that were nightmare-worthy.  Some of that knowledge he had gotten from listening to Peter.  The rest he'd gotten from his accomplice in Neverland.  He knew much of Peter's history, and it was pretty harrowing.  He knew the name of Peter's mother, and Peter's real name as well.  He knew the boy had been born in Neverland, and that his father had been half-elven.  He had seen the evil creature that had murdered the boy's mother and the dozens of other children she had adopted and brought to the island.  He knew all the many reasons Peter Morgan had tried to kill himself, before he had become Peter Pan.

Finally, he was at the crow's nest and climbed in.  He took a moment to catch his breath and assess the situation.  Peter was curled on his side, clutching a dagger tightly in his hand.  He was muttering and crying, and every once in awhile he would flail his arms, dagger darting out at his dream-enemy.  Much of his speech sounded like gibberish, but Hook recognized and understood the fey words the boy spoke.

"Codfish… stop… let me go… NO!" Peter screamed.  "I hate you!" he struck out with his dagger again.

Hook frowned in concern.  _He's dreaming of me.  Great.  Getting that knife away will be a lot more interesting now._  He felt an acute sense of déjà vu, and the world twisted.  For an instant, he saw a ten-year-old Peter Pan curled up in the same way, in the same place, nearly naked and almost frozen to death, having the same nightmare.  _Mullins would say this is a day for bad omens.  Peter hasn't mentioned his amnesia for weeks, and it's been nearly a month since his last nightmare.  I don't remember the last time I've hit him.  It's the strain, we were too long at sea.  First thing in the morning he's off the ship, for as long as he wants._

"Peter," Hook called softly.

Peter growled – actually growled – and made a quick swipe with his dagger.

"Peter.  It's your father.  Wake up," Hook said a bit louder.  He knew Peter couldn't be awakened from his nightmares; the boy was locked in them until they were done.  But it never hurt to try.

"You're not… you're a liar," Peter's dagger flashed again.

Hook's claw struck out and knocked the blade from his hand.  He grabbed the struggling teen and pulled him close.  "Pan," he purred in the boy's ear, "you'll never give up, will you?  Go back, it's not your day yet."  Within a few moments, Peter's arms and hands were tied.  A few more moments and his feet were also bound.  Hook couldn't deal with Peter up here and he needed to get the boy down.  But he couldn't carry him down if he was kicking and pushing.  He picked up Peter's dagger and tucked it in his boot, then slung the boy over his shoulder.  As he climbed down he murmured to Peter, "I'm your father.  I won't hurt you.  You're my son.  Everything is fine."  At first Peter struggled, but soon he calmed enough that Hook could climb down easily.

"Whiskey, Cap'n?" Simmons asked when Hook was on deck.  "Meester Smee tole me if'n 'e were gone an this 'appen, ye'd need this."  He carried a bottle and a cup.

"Put it on my nightstand," Hook replied as he carried Peter back to their room and laid him on his bed.  

Simmons set the items down and hurried out, closing the door behind him softly.  

Hook removed the dagger from his boot, then checked Peter for other weapons.  When he found none, he got himself and the boy comfortable, removing Peter's boots and untying his bonds.  He worked quickly because his son was becoming more animated.  When he was done, he sat on the bed and pulled the youth into his lap.

Peter's nightmare had apparently moved on to new subject matter.  Peter whimpered and moaned, "Kaylee… no… come back…"

_His mother.__  This will be easier.  Peter had two areas of memory loss.  The first was induced by fey magic, after Peter had tried to kill himself.  The trauma of seeing his mother and the others killed had been too much, so they fey cast a spell to make him forget.  It had apparently not worked quite right, and afterwards he was an exceptionally forgetful boy.  The second loss had happened after Peter Pan had been removed from Neverland.  The magic Hook had used had gone awry, causing unforeseen problems.  Pan and Hook had had one last battle, and the pirate had used the spell again in a way it wasn't intended, and Pan had been "disposed" of.  When the boy had awakened, he'd remembered nothing about his past or who he was.  Thus Hook claimed the boy as his own, naming him Peter Hook._

Since Peter's nightmares of his mother predated Hook, it was easier for him to comfort the boy.  The ones where he was the villain were more difficult, but he'd managed.  He didn't have a choice.  When he'd first taken Peter away, he'd allowed the boy to suffer through his bad dreams.  Peter eventually had had them all night, every night.  He became surly and mean-spirited, disrespectful and difficult, likely due to his intense headaches.  As Peter continued to have them, his behavior and headaches became more intolerable for everyone on the ship.  This cycle continued until the boy couldn't see straight and he had nosebleeds.  Finally, the boy screamed for the duration of his nightmare, and only Hook could touch him.  When Hook intervened and took the boy in his arms, the screaming stopped and he calmed.  He kept Peter with him all that night, and when the boy awoke he was better, and the frequency of his bad dreams lessened.  From then on, Hook held Peter while he was caught in a nightmare.  

So Hook held him.  Occasionally he softly sang a sea chanty or recited a bit of Shakespeare, but that was mainly to amuse himself.  After nearly an hour, Peter stirred and opened his eyes.

He jumped a bit, disoriented, but soon realized where he was.  He moaned, "Not again."  He tried to sit up, but his father stopped him.

"Not yet.  Lie still," and Hook laid the youth on the bed.  He reached for the tray and poured a shot of whiskey.  "Sit up and drink this."

Peter hated whiskey, and always associated it with being sick or hurt, but he knew it would help him sleep without dreams.  He tossed the shot down, shuddered, and grimaced at the taste.  Still, the warm feeling in his stomach was nice.  He handed the glass back to his father.  He raised his eyebrows when Hook handed him a second shot.

"That bad?" he asked.

Hook nodded.  "You were in the crow's nest with a knife.  It took awhile to get you down.  You injured Mr. Simmons."

"Oh," and Peter drank the second shot.  He handed the glass back and leaned back against the headboard.  "Is he ok?"

"He's given himself worse."

"I'm sorry, I should have gone to the crew quarters," Peter said quietly, hoping his father wasn't angry with him still.

"Yes, you should have.  You know I don't like you being up there.  That's why I got so upset when you "fell" from the nest today."  He gave Peter his hand and helped the boy to his own bed.  While Peter got himself settled in, Hook put out the light and lay down in his bed again.  "Goodnight, son," he called.

Peter didn't reply, and Hook was beginning to wonder if the boy had already dropped off again.  Then, in a very small voice, Peter said again, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I give you too much trouble.  I'm weak.  No one else on this ship needs their daddy to hold their hands when they have a bad dream," Peter relied bitterly.

Hook sat up and looked at the boy in the dim light.  "Who said that?" he nearly shouted.

"Jefferies did once and I overheard.  Starkey punched him for it, but I'm sure most of the others think so, too.  I think it myself."

"Jefferies was a fool.  He died a fool's death.  You know how those superstitious luggards are.  Your nightmares are a bad omen.  If you are ill the next morning, they think it'll be a bad day for us.  If you are recovered then we'll pull through."

"I know," Peter sighed, "it's poppycock.  I'm tired of pretending I feel fine the next day just to keep them happy."

"Actually, you are an accurate barometer for our fortunes.  I've checked my logs," Hook replied.  He had checked, and he attributed the correlation to Peter's innate magic.  "Which is why I want you rested and fit tomorrow.  You're going ashore first thing."

Peter couldn't keep the happiness out of his voice, "Then you're not angry at me, sir?"

"No, boy.  Now hush and go to sleep."

"Ay, sir.  Goodnight," and Peter closed his eyes to go to sleep.

Hook followed suit soon afterward.


	3. Shore Leave

"Billy… wake up…"

Jukes moaned and tried to open his eyes.  That effort hurt too much so he tried to roll over and ignore the voice that kept persisting.

"C'mon, Billy!  Get up!"

"Go 'way, Peter," he mumbled irritably.

"Aww… has the poor chap gots a hangover?  'E needs ta take his medicine, then," Peter mocked in Mullins's voice.  "Come on," he continued in his own voice, "I want to go ashore, but father says someone has to go with me.  Tag, you're IT!" Peter held out the mug of coffee he had brought.  "I've got a whole pot here.  Or you can take Cookson's cure.  Either way, you have to get up."

"Take someone else," Jukes whined.  His head was really pounding, and he felt nauseous.  _My Lord, what a night, and what a fight.__  How'd I get back to the ship?  _

"Okay, but you still have to get up.  If I take anyone else, you have to take their place loading supplies."

"Alright…gimme a sec," Jukes sighed.  Slowly he eased himself out of the hammock, swearing softly.  He stumbled behind Peter as they made their way to the galley, then sat at the table.  He took the coffee from Peter and took a sip.

"Whiskey?" he asked when he tasted it.

"Just a bit.  Enough to get you going." 

"I love ya, man.  Yer a saint," Billy sighed and took another sip.  He heard Peter chuckle, but he still couldn't open his eyes past a squint.  After about half the cup was gone, he tried again and found that he could tolerate the light.  "Wow, Pete, that's a good shiner.  And I thought _I had a good fight.  Who gave it to you?"_

"Father," Peter said simply.  "We had a fight so I slept in the crow's nest for most of the night."

"Peter!  Ya should'a come down here!"

"I know - that's what the Cap'n said.  I had another nightmare, so he had to come up there and get me."  Peter and Billy confided in each other about everything, and there were few secrets between the two.  Actually, the only secret that wasn't shared was Peter's past, and Billy had made it clear that it was the only one he'd ever keep from his friend.

"I'd ask what it was about, but I'm sure you don't remember.  In case the other men ask, how do you feel now?"

"Damn sight better than you," Peter relied with a grin.

"I believe you," Billy groaned and finished his second cup of coffee.  "So, what do you want to do?"

"Well, even with the fresh supplies, I'd rather eat breakfast at an inn…"

"I'll say."

"So," Peter continued, "We'll go to the Red Lion and eat."

"Lovely place," Billy said, "Good food, but a bit expensive."

"My treat, Billy.  After that, I want you to lose me for the rest of the day.  I'll meet you back at the Lion around noon."

"Cap'n was pissed last time I "lost" you when he said you weren't to be alone," Billy warned.

"He isn't going to know," Peter said doubtfully.  

"I don't want to lose any more hide off my back, Peter."

"So I'll tell him I ditched you.  But he doesn't have to know anyway.  I'll meet you in the afternoon and we'll take in the town."

"Okay, but if I get a beating, then I'm taking it out on you," Jukes warned.

"You're bigger and two years older, but I can still beat you in a fistfight."

"Yeah, right," Billy challenged good-naturedly.

"Don't make me prove it again," Peter stood.  He had a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Again?  Anytime we scrap, the crew steps in and the Cap'n finishes it."

"I had you beat, you just didn't know it yet."

The two teens glared at each other for awhile longer, then broke into laughter.  They shook hands and made their way to the deck.

"MR. JUKES!" the Captain yelled when he saw the boys.

Billy winced, as much from the dread of the next words as from the pain the shout gave his hung-over head.  "Ay, Cap'n?"

"I expect you to watch Mr. Hook's back while you are in town.  Mr. Hook!  I expect you to do the same.  Keep a sharp ear and eye for anything suspicious, and make sure you don't draw attention to yourselves.  I don't want a repeat of the last time we docked here."  Hook walked up to the two and continued in a lower voice, "Billy, give Peter some time to himself today.  If he decides to take to the woods, let him go alone.  You only have to watch each other in the city.  I'm sure you both were planning to do this anyway.  I'd rather not have to punish you before we sail, so I'm giving you permission."

"Thank you, sir," Peter and Billy replied.  _How does he always seem to guess when I'm planning to do something?  I know he can't read my mind._

"Off with you, lollygaggers!  Be here before midnight!"

"Ay, Ay!" and with that both teens were running down the gangplank and across the dock.

Later that morning, Peter was making his way deep into the forest.  He had a great sense of direction, and preferred not to follow any trails.  He was happy.  He was finally alone, walking on solid land and breathing fresh air.  

Peter had managed to secure a free breakfast for himself and Billy.  He had picked a gent's pocket and made a fairly big haul.  It was enough for them both to eat like lords and plenty left over for Billy to use to buy a trinket for one of the waitresses that had caught his eye.  Jukes had decided to return to the Red Lion and keep the lass company while she waited for the lunch crowd and he waited for Peter.  

After an hour of wandering, Peter finally found a good place to rest.  Even if he wasn't needing a rest, he would have stopped here.  It was gorgeous.  Old oaks bordered a small open area.  The ground was green and fresh with grass and moss, with a few wildflowers in the sunnier spots and mushrooms in the shade.

Peter made his way to the foot of the largest oak.  He noticed a wide ring of mushrooms surrounding the tree.

"How odd.  It adds to the charm, though."  He carefully stepped into the ring (he didn't want to disturb anything) and sat with the trunk of the tree against his back.  He relaxed and closed his eyes for a bit, breathing in the smells:  wood, damp, flowers, earth, grass, and the underlying scent of all old forests – decay.  Here, Peter felt more at peace than he ever could on the _Jolly Roger_.  This was natural and comforting.  He opened his eyes and listened to the birds and insects and the wind in the branches.  _I've missed this.  If not for father, I would stay here forever._

Peter suddenly felt an inspiration and brought out his pipes from beneath his coat.  He had few things from his life before – his pipes, his dagger, his earring and his name were all.  Billy had given him the pipes and dagger and told him that he had been keeping them safe for him.  Hook had not been happy about that, but had let him keep them. 

Softly, slowly at first, Peter began to play.  He didn't play any song in particular, but let the notes flow naturally.  Soon, he was completely immersed in the melody.  His eyes closed and he stood, still playing.  His whole body swayed with the music, and he became oblivious to everything else.

After the first few notes, the area fell silent.  Most of the wild animals left, alarmed at the human nearby.  A few birds, squirrels, and butterflies stayed behind and listened.  They stared at the human below, sniffed his scent, and listened enraptured at his song.  A few of them settled into the elder oak above him.  If Peter hadn't been so engrossed, he would have heard and understood their whispers.

"Who is this human?  I can smell fey magic in him."

"Impossible!  We aren't allowed to enthrall a human anymore, or to magic one."

"But he plays fey music!  He _has_ to be enthralled.  Or he's not human.  How else could he know _Aral Nietova?"_

"Could he be a Neverboy?  Or from one of the other Islands?  There's something of the mists about him… there's a spell on him!"

"Can't be a Neverboy, Tam.  Those kids don't leave the Isle, not since Pan died.  'Sides, he's too old to be a Neverboy."

"He's older, but he's still not a grown man," the squirrel named Tam paused.  "He looks familiar, though."

"Well I don't know," a butterfly remarked.  "I can't tell one Man from another."

"I've seen him before," a cardinal said suddenly.  "He comes to the forest every once in awhile, last time was about eight new-moons ago.  I didn't stick around, and I certainly didn't hear him play.  I wouldn't have heard him now if he weren't sitting in our Grove."

They listened to the rest of the song in silence.  When Peter finished, he sat back down at the foot of the tree.  He felt good, but a bit spent.  He had poured out his heart in the song, and he wanted to enjoy the lighter heart while it lasted.

In the tree above the boy, Tam began to shake his tail.  Golden flecks of dust drifted out and fell towards Peter.  Peter began to blink and yawn, and his head started to feel like it weighed a ton.

"What are you doing?" whispered the bird.

"I've got an idea, and he's going to take a nap while I find out.  And when he wakes up, he'll be as fresh as if he'd slept for a week."  He looked at the bird, "Gleana, go find Dria.  She was one of those born of Pan's first laugh.  Bring her here."

"You think that's Pan?" Gleana asked incredulously.  She looked at the now sleeping boy.  "He's too old!  Besides, Hook murdered Peter Pan!"

"They never found his body and he never joined the Lady in the Nether-realm.  Go get Dria and she'll settle it.  But I do believe it's him."

The bird flew off.  The remaining animals moved to where Peter lay, bolder now that the youth was in an enchanted sleep.  Slowly they changed, becoming an assortment of wood-elves, gnomes, and pixies.  One of the pixies alighted on his knee.

"He smells like a man.  He smells like a pirate.  But…," he paused, "I don't know.  I smell Neverland on him.  And there's the spell.  It's strong, got him wrapped up tight.  No one's supposed to have put something that strong on a human.  Not for a long time, not since Kaylee."

They continued their discussion while they waited.  None of them had ever seen Peter Pan, but they knew Neverland.  Neverland was one of the Sanctuaries, one of the seeds around which the mists of fey magic were gathered, and it was the oldest.  Anything that had ever lived there would still carry a bit of the magic with it, which the fey that still inhabited the mortal realm would recognize.  Pan was born in the mists, born with the magic his mother had been bestowed, and he carried some of that in his blood.  They all felt that this human had that trait, but they also felt a wrongness about him that made them suspicious.

"I heard Tinker Bell felt him go, and the Lady herself awoke and wept when she felt him ripped away."

"They found some cloth from his clothes, with his blood on it.  They saw Hook and his men celebrating, Pan's blood on his claw."

"Why else would the evil man leave Neverland, unless he'd gotten his vengeance."

"If this is Pan, then how did he live?  How did he get here and no one knowing he was alive?  And how could Nibs replace him if he didn't die?"

"It can't be him, they searched the pirate ship so many times and never found a trace of him."

"Peter Pan!" came a cry.  A small pixie with blue hair wizzed to the boy.  She landed on his shoulder and danced in happiness.  "Oh it _is you, it is!  What have they done to you?"  She stepped back, then flew to his knee where the other fairy stood.  All the other fey were whispering excitedly.  More were coming to see the child they had thought gone forever._

"He's grown up," remarked the elf, Tam.

"Not completely, he's in the twilight of his childhood still," Dria answered.  "There's still hope for him."

"Do you know what this spell is?" Tam asked, "I know the Never-fey enchanted him, but this seems strange."

Dria frowned as she felt out the magic that was entwined about the youth.  "It's a forget-me spell.  After the Lady and her wards were killed, Peter was the only N'avarean left.  The Never-fey put it on him and made him forget everything… he was so sad that Neverland began fading, and then he tried to kill himself.  He fought us and he almost broke the enchantment.  Because of that the spell had holes in it so that he kept forgetting stuff that happened afterwards, too.  But it seemed to work better that way anyway, so we left it alone."  She gasped suddenly.  "It's wrong!  It's been changed somehow.  How could this have happened?  Only a Never-fey's power could affect the forget-me spell."

"Should we remove it?" Tam asked, concerned.  Fey magic was unpredictable at times even to the fairies, and to learn that a spell had been warped was serious cause for concern.

"By the mists!  No!  We don't know what the spell is doing now.  And I sense another spell, beneath the old one.  It's… I don't know… it's slippery somehow, I can't touch it long enough to know anything other than it's there.  Removing one could change the other, they could be intertwined somehow.  Or removing one could remove both.  Unless we know what both are doing, we dare not touch them."  She shuddered, "And I hate to think what would happen to him if he got his old memories back.  He may try to harm himself again, or he may even go insane.  We have to leave it alone for now."

"So what do we do now?  We can't let him get away from us again.  We may never find him."

"No," Dria said, "I won't let him go.  We need to let Tinker Bell and King Oberon know we've found him.  They will know what to do."  She turned to the pixie next to her.  "Lyla, go to Tintagel and tell the King.  I'm staying with Peter so we don't lose him again."

"But that's dangerous.  If you get caught…" Lyla didn't say what could happen, she didn't want to think of the ways humans could exploit a pixie if they caught one.  

"Go," Dria said, giving the other pixie a small pouch of her dust.  "You can find me with that, and where I am, Peter will be.  It's a long journey, do you remember the Way?"

Lyla nodded, then took to the air to make to flight to the fey-realm.

Peter sighed and began to stir.  The fey creatures scattered and Dria alighted in the tree next to Tam.  Both changed into their animal forms and watched as the boy awoke.

Peter yawned and stretched.  _Wow, I feel great.  Usually I have to be ashore for days to feel this good!_  He felt peace within himself, and could feel his body tingle.  He closed his eyes and knew, somehow, there was a squirrel and a bird in the tree above his head.  He knew the oak he leaned against had stood for over five hundred years.  He knew that this place was special somehow, that it pulsed with life more richly than any other place in this part of the forest, and that he would always be welcome here.

That's how it always was for him… he'd get an acute sense of living things once he was rested.  He'd thought for a long time it was only his imagination, until he'd tested his senses and found the things he somehow had known would be there.  It added to his confusion about who he was and why he was different, but he accepted it as a part of himself.  

Peter smiled and stood up.  He turned to the tree and winked at the bird in the branch.  The squirrel was hiding from him.  "I give you my thanks, friend oak, for your shelter while I rested."  He bowed deeply and stood again.  "I hope that the next time I put to port here, you will let me find this place again and take my rest beneath your boughs."  He didn't seriously think the tree could hear him, but it never hurt.  Besides, he felt so extraordinarily wonderful and _whole_ right now, he wanted to thank _someone_ for the blessing.  The weight was lifted from his heart, and all his worries were far away.  Even his face didn't hurt anymore, and he idly wondered if the bruise was still there.

_If I could sleep like that every night, I'd live forever_.  He frowned suddenly.  By the sun, it was just after noon.  He picked up his pipes and started to jog towards town.  He wasn't too far away, so it wouldn't take as long to get back as it took to get out here.  He didn't notice that the bird he'd winked at followed him the whole way into town.

Peter found Billy at the same table he had left him at.  He gave his friend an apologetic smile and said, "Sorry I'm late."

Billy never looked away from the waitress.  "Hmm?  Back so soon?  Peter, me bucko, I'm in love!"

Peter glanced at the waitress across the room who was sweeping the floor.  No one else was in sight.  "With her?"

"Yeah," Billy sighed, "Evelyn.  Smiles like an angel, eyes blue as the sea."

"Billy?"

"Hmm?"

"I think she's married."

"What?" Billy looked at Peter, alarmed.

Peter burst out laughing.  "Just kidding.  I wanted to see if you were paying attention.  You are so gullible sometimes."

Billy glared at the other boy.  "Tell me quickly why I shouldn't kill you."

"Because then you'd be the youngest crewman, and you'd get to double as the cabin-boy."

Billy blinked, "Oh, right.  Yeah that sucked before.  Thank God I'm good with machines and blowing stuff up or I'd have had to kill myself a long time ago."

Peter chuckled.  "I wonder why Father hasn't taken on a new cabin-boy.  I'm getting a little old for this."

"Well, he hates kids for one thing - present company excepted," Billy grinned, "Two, he can keep ya close this way.  It's easier to spend quality time with his son without showing favoritism.  Three, there's no way you're grown-up enough to be trusted with any other position.  You play too much sometimes."

Peter flushed, "You were the ship's gunner and blacksmith since you were ten.  Why is it different for you?"

Billy sighed.  "I grew up a long time before I was ten.  Good thing, too, or I'd have ended up on the point of you Dad's hook.  Captain Hook has no patience for anything childish… it's a wonder you lived to see sixteen."

Peter ignored the inevitable questions that he loved Jukes too much to ask and changed the subject.  "I'm just lucky I guess.  It's my natural charm and boyish good looks."

"Yeah you just keep your charm and looks off of Evelyn.  The only downside to going to taverns with you is that it's nearly impossible to get the wenches' attention when you start flirting."

Peter rolled his eyes, "Did you ever think that maybe it's because you get too drunk?"

Billy waved to Evelyn and looked back at his friend.  "Maybe.  Or maybe it's because I want to see you get lucky, so I stay in the background and pray that one of the girls will get more from you than a pinch or a kiss on the cheek."

Peter was going to say something rude in return, but by that time the waitress was there to take their lunch order.  By the time Billy quit flirting (Peter remained quiet and restrained himself from being charming) and the woman left to give their order to the cook, the borderline argument was past and the two teens chatted about harmless things.  Peter didn't miss that Evelyn was wearing the locket that Billy had bought earlier that day.  _A girl in every port._

After lunch was over, the two teens went shopping.  Peter, as usual, needed new clothes and shoes.  It wasn't that he kept outgrowing them – he always bought them a bit too large so he could have room to grow.  Getting rips and stains in his clothes were a part of being a sailor, and every man on the ship sported patches and stains in their attire.  But Peter was the son of James Hook, and he'd learned to be fastidious in maintaining a proper wardrobe.  Peter tolerated stains and patches when he was at sea, but he wouldn't be caught dead in a town unless he was wearing his best clothes.  Billy preferred old clothes.  They were comfortable and familiar, and he could do his work without fear of ruining a shirt (when he actually wore a shirt).  Billy also didn't like waste, so now that Peter had caught up with him in size, he usually appropriated Peter's old clothes when the boy replaced them.

So the two of them wandered through the shops and the markets, examining clothes and cloth (both boys could tailor their own shirts if they needed to), shoes, hats and jewelry.  Peter snagged another wallet while they shopped, so they had no fear of the prices the merchants charged.  

Peter was testing the weight of a fancy yet practical sword when Billy called him over.  

"Hey!  How about a new earring?" Jukes pointed to a large gold hoop.

Peter fingered the ruby stud in his earlobe.  "Nah.  I like this one.  Father gave it to me."

"Hey, I designed that stud, and short of cutting, that thing's not coming out of your ear.  I meant you should get another hole.  A little variety never killed anyone, you know."

"I prefer to save my money," Peter replied and turned back to look at the sword again.

Jukes nearly dropped the parcel he was carrying.  "Who are you and what did you do to Peter Hook?"

Peter rolled his eyes, "Hey, I have to start thinking about the future."

Billy put his hand on the hilt of his dagger.  "Ok, now I know something's wrong."

"Gee, you really do think I'm useless don't you!" Peter growled and began to stalk away.

"Hey!" Billy trotted to catch up to his friend.  "Since when do you take me seriously when I'm picking at you?"

"Well," Peter said as they continued walking, "Father had a talk with me yesterday.  Do you _want_ to be a pirate for the rest of your life?"

Billy jerked Peter into an alley and pushed him against the wall.  "It won't matter what I want if you say stupid shit like that in public!" he snapped angrily.  He looked to the opening of the alley and sighed when no one seemed to notice they were there.  "You'll have us dangling from a noose by sundown, me dumb bucko!"

Peter waved him off and straightened his jacket.  "Well, we're alone now.  Do you want to be a pirate for the rest of your life?  If you do, you know your life will be a lot shorter than it could be."

"Even shorter if I keep hanging around with you," Billy muttered angrily.  He gave Peter a hard stare.  "You know my answer.  I'll stick with Mullins.  When he no longer pirates – most likely when he's dead – then I'll find something else.  There's always work for a smith, and I could probably get a good job designing guns… I've got some great ideas."

"Father says I need to consider what I want to do.  He said if I wanted to go to a university, he'd send me.  He said you're smart enough, you could go too."

"Sounds stuffy and boring," he smiled.  "Maybe I'll just find a few nice, good-looking girls and a deserted tropical island.  I'd start a new nation and be the king.  I'll have no worries and could spend all my time inventing things, and no-one will laugh at my machines."

Peter smirked and walked back out onto the street.  "Yeah and when your kids grow up, they'll all be brothers and sisters.  They'll revolt and leave the island."

Billy poked Peter in the ribs.  "You could come live there too and bring your own women.  We'll split the island."  _And I'd never fear for anything with you around.  You survived on an island for years untold, and managed to look after a pack of kids while being hunted be a ship full of pirates._

"And you think _I'm short-sighted?  All of our grandkids will be first-cousins!"_

"Hey, I can dream.  Let the damn brats fend for themselves," he chuckled.  "Seriously, I'd just find work somewhere else.  Hell, once I claim my shares I could set up a business.  Mullins is like my father, and I won't leave him any more than you want to leave your dad."

Peter nodded.  The thought of being away from his father for a little while was appealing.  The thought of life without his dad scared the hell out of him.  He seriously didn't think he'd be able to cope with losing the only family he had.  "It's something I have to think about, though.  Unless I finally slip up one day, I'll outlive the Captain by a long time.  I have to make sure that I can survive losing him."

Billy looked at Peter but stayed silent.  They all wondered if Peter would live through it.  The men that had been in Neverland knew how the spell bound Peter to Hook, and they all dreaded the day that one or the other would die.  Billy had a flash of memory:  Peter in chains, lying on the deck and screaming while Neverland tried to rip itself apart.  That had been when Hook had taken Peter away.  He knew that the pain his friend had suffered through then would happen again if Hook died.  He just didn't know if Peter would recover.  They were all pretty sure that if Peter died, the same would happen to the Captain.  As a result, the crew watched both Captain and cabin-boy close, knowing that if they lost one they could lose both.

"Don't worry, Pete.  As long as you have me, you'll be just fine."

Peter smiled, "I know," and the two teens continued to enjoy their day of freedom.

Dria flew from roof to roof and listened to the boys chatter.  _Pan, talking about the future, planning to go to school!  What happened to the carefree, forgetful little boy who gave me life with his first laugh?_

Just before midnight, Jukes helped a very intoxicated Peter onto the ship.

"Mr. Jukes," came the Captain's voice from the shadows, "what is wrong with Mr. Hook?"

"Drunk, sir.  Passed out in the bar, but he's mostly awake now."

"I thought _you were the lush and _he _the one that carried you home."_

Billy chuckled nervously, a bit hurt by the captain's description.  _I don't always get drunk, but when I do I go all out.  "Well, not tonight.  He's been in an odd mood all day.  Happy and relaxed, but odd.  I didn't want another hangover, so I let him do all the drinking."_

Peter laughed suddenly.  "Ahoy, Mr. Jukes," he called in Hook's voice, "get me another drink or I'll cleave you from stem to stern!"  He giggled and almost fell when he tried to step away.  Hook caught him and looked at Jukes.

"He's been odd, but in a good way," Billy continued.  "He's been happy, playful, and exceptionally full of himself.  Had a couple of barmaids fawning over him.  He even took one upstairs, but he wasn't up there but for about ten minutes.  Came down and got in a fight.  It started with fists but then Peter pulled a knife.  I thought he was actually going to kill the guy, so I broke it up.  The other lout left and Peter decided to get shit faced… err.. pardon me sir – he decided to get drunk."

"Did he get some time alone?" Hook asked in concern.

"Ay, sir.  He spent the morning in the woods.  Came back a whole lot better."

Hook leaned Peter back on Jukes's shoulder and clapped the gunner on the shoulder.  "I wanted him to have more time, but we have to sail in the morning.  Put him in his bed, and get some sleep yourself.  I'll need you both tomorrow."  He watched as Billy led the nearly unconscious boy to the Captain's cabin, lost in thought.  _Took a wench upstairs… tried to kill a man… got drunk?  Has he decided to grow up then?  He's rushing it, too much at once._  Hook smiled, though.  _Perhaps Pan is gone for good now, and my son can live in peace._

Dria sat on a yard-arm high above.  She couldn't hear what the men below had said, but she didn't care.  She was too busy staring at the tall Captain.  _That's Captain HOOK!  This ship is the Jolly Roger!_  Has that fiend had Peter this entire time?  We looked!  I helped search this ship myself for two days!  We all felt him ripped away, felt him die.  How did Hook do it?__

She didn't want to go near the deck.  This whole ship stank of men and evil deeds.  She especially wanted to avoid Captain Hook.  But if she wanted to know what was going on, she would have to get closer.  When no-one was in sight, she flew down.  She looked about for a bit and finally found a nook above Hook's window, perfect for a perch and out of sight.  She spent the rest of the night making it into a comfortable nest.

"Peter!  Wake up!"

"Go 'way, Billy!" Peter growled as painful consciousness returned.  He buried his head under the blanket to hide from the light.

"Ah… revenge," Billy cackled.  "All the times you unmercifully roused me to a morning of excruciating pain, throbbing head and heaving stomach.  Get up Peter.  Cap'n's orders!  We sail today.  Two Navy ships due in port this evening, we'd like to be well away by then.  All hands on deck and all that."

When Peter didn't stir, Jukes yanked the blanked off the boy.  He grabbed Peter by the ankle and dragged the boy off the bed.

"Son of a – ow!"  Peter cried as he hit the floor.  "Have a heart, Billy!" he whined as he tried to sit up.

"I do, Pete me bucko, but not for many," Billy replied as he helped his friend up.  "I don't want to see you flogged for dereliction of duty.  And I don't want to have to battle a navy ship today."  He sat Peter down at the desk and gave him some "special" coffee.

Peter finished the first cup before he could even open his eyes.  "Billy, I'll never tease you about your hangovers again," Peter swore.

"So – how was she?" Billy asked.

"She?  Who?" Peter was confused.

"Millie, the wench you took upstairs with our birthday money!" Billy reminded.  "C'mon, you weren't drunk when you went up, so you can't have forgotten.  I'm your best friend, so you _have_ to tell me."

Peter reddened a bit, "She was ok.  Did what I paid her to do."

"You weren't gone long," Billy said slyly, poking Peter in the ribs.

"It didn't take long."

"Sorry, man," Billy grinned, "It'll get better with time and experience."

Peter downed his second cup and didn't reply.  _I didn't actually lie.  I was going to… with her… but I couldn't.  Peter remembered going to her room and blushed.  He had wanted her, badly.  They had kissed and fondled each other.  He'd even seen her topless.  But his panic had risen along with his need, and he had pushed her away.  He apologized, then paid her extra for her silence.  She had apparently really liked him and was a bit hurt by the rejection.  He used his usual charm and a bit of lying to smooth her over and make sure she would stay quiet about what happened.  They had talked for awhile longer until Peter though enough time had passed.  When they came down he was angry with himself for his inability and frustrated, so he had picked a fight.  The unfortunate victim had been a nice enough chap that had been drinking with them, and had made a crude remark about Peter being back so fast.  Peter had taken the insult to heart and beat the shit out of him.  He'd wanted to kill the man, hoping to get relief by spilling blood.  _

"Thanks, Billy, for stopping me last night."

Billy knew what Peter was talking about.  "The guy was drunk.  I knew you'd beat yourself up over it later.  I was merely defending your conscience while it was away.  But you're welcome."

_Peter lied_, though Dria, _he didn't lay with that woman.  He came out of that bar the same as he went in… just drunker.  Dria was relieved that Peter hadn't crossed over last night.  To find him and lose him all over again would be too much to bear.  _

Crossing over… that was when a human child grew up and fully embraced adulthood.  Sex in itself didn't cause a crossing over – there were many children who weren't virgins, and many virgins who weren't children.  Crossing over was when a child in his heart began calling himself a man (or herself a woman).  Peter equated being a man with having sex, no doubt a result of listening to the lewd tales the other sailors would tell… and their promises to buy him a whore and "make a man out of him".  Once he crossed that self-imposed hurdle, he would truly grow up.  Some humans never grew up, no matter how old they were physically, but those eternal children were so rare they were nearly a legend.  Frowning, Dria realized that this one named Billy Jukes was also still in many ways a child.  _I wonder what his crossing point is?_

While the two boys chatted and Peter got his feet back under him, Dria settled down to eat the breakfast of bread and cheese she'd stolen from the pantry.  


	4. True Lies

"I'll see your five and raise you ten!" Peter challenged.

Alf Mason kept his face impassive as he considered.  He had a full house and was fairly sure he had the better hand.  Peter was a good bluffer, though, and you could never tell with his luck.  Starkey, Mullins, Jukes and Roy had all folded, so all eyes were now on him.  There was a considerable number of coins on the table.

"Alright, I call," and he tossed in a ten-piece.

"Four eights, ten high," Peter said with a smug grin.

"Damn it!" Mason threw his cards down.  "If I didn't know better… "

"Are you trying to accuse me of something?" Peter challenged.  His tone was deadly but there was a playful light in his eyes.

"No," Mason backpedaled.  "I just don't know how you do it!"

"A little bird whispers in my ear and tells me what everyone has," Peter laughed.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it did," Mason retorted and everyone joined in the laughter.

_I would help him, if I could do it unseen,_ thought Dria.  _I do like to see Peter win.  But he doesn't need my help in this._  They had been at sea for nearly two weeks now.  Dria had been fairly seasick the first two days, but she recovered.  Since then, she had endeavored to unravel the mystery of what had happened to Peter Pan.

She had gathered that Peter thought Hook was his father, and that he had no memories of his life before.  She had gotten no further than that until a few days ago, when she had discovered that Hook was a meticulous journal keeper.  His entries spanned back for many years.  Those books that pertained to his time in Neverland and shortly afterwards were in a trunk beneath his bed.  The rest resided in a bookcase with his other books.  Whenever Hook was on deck during the day, she would slip beneath the bed and pull one of the volumes out.  She was slow to read the entries (written English was not a strong point for her and the dates were completely foreign).  She had just gotten the hang of it, and earlier today had made more progress than all the previous days put together.  Still, she had discovered nothing to clue her in as to what had happened.  She had read a few entries that discussed Peter's nightmares and his yearly illness.  She didn't know the cause of those maladies, but she was certain it had something to do with the twisted spell that bound him.

"Mr. Hook," came the Captain's voice, "would you be so kind as to join me in our cabin?"

Everyone froze.  Hook's voice was calm and polite, but cold.  He was pissed.  Peter's face blanched and he bore an expression of absolute dread.  "Ay, sir.  Coming, sir," he replied and jumped to his feet.  Billy scraped his friend's winnings to the side just in case he actually came back.

_What's this all about?_ Dria thought as she made her way quietly to her nest, where she could listen in.

_What's this all about?_ Was Peter's thought, too.  _I haven't done anything.  No stunts, no jokes, no disrespect.  Did I forget to do something?  No, I don't think so._  He walked to their room, the Captain close behind him.

When they entered the room, Hook locked the door behind them.

_Shit, I'm screwed,_ Peter thought as a sinking feeling left a hole in his stomach.  He stood still and stared straight ahead.  The captain stayed behind him.

"Peter, my dear boy, is there anything of mine of particular interest to you?  Something you want perhaps?"

Peter frowned, "If there was, sir, I would ask you for it."

"And if you knew the answer would be no?"

"I'd ask anyway, or I'd not consider it any longer, depending on how much I wanted it.  Has someone stolen something?"

Suddenly he was nose to nose with Hook and his feet were dangling about a foot from the floor.  His father's eyes blazed with fury and, Peter realized with shock, fear.

"Ay, boy.  Someone's been going through my things every day for the past three days.  Despite my best efforts, I have yet to discover the culprit.  You have unrestricted access to this room, and you are an accomplished thief.  Care to enlighten me on what you are up to?"

Peter was mystified, "I'd never steal from you, sir."

Hook roared in anger and threw him across the room.  Peter's side slammed into a bookshelf and he crumpled to the floor.

"Lie to me again!" Hook yelled.

"Sir," Peter gasped and tried to sit up.  "I wouldn't!  I've too much respect for you."  He stopped speaking when he saw the man was only getting angrier. 

Hook picked him up again.  "Respect?" he growled.  "If you respect me, then confess.  I don't wish to go through this with you right now."

"Maybe it was one of the new men…"

Hook snarled again and slammed him into the wall.  Peter struck his head and saw stars.  All the wind was knocked from his lungs and he couldn't breathe.

"What was violated was not anything any of those dogs would give a damn about," Hook grated softly.  "Would you care to try one last time?"

Peter struggled to get his breath back.  When he could, he coughed and wheezed in pain.  "Father, no, I swear.  I don't know anything!"

"My journals, boy!  Someone has been into my journals, particularly the ones immediately before, during and after your point of memory loss."  Hook jerked Peter back up, causing jolts of pain in the boy's head.  "You, my dear son," he sneered, "are the only one aboard who could possibly want that information.  Mullins and the others were here at that time and know everything they care to about you.  The newer crewmen wouldn't care a whit, and I doubt they can even read.  That leaves only you.  Now," he pulled Peter closer, "what did you discover?  What do you remember?  How long have you been sneaking behind my back?"

Peter was shocked.  He had never considered that Hook would have written down the information about his amnesia.  Even if he had known, he never would have snuck in to read it.  He hated that his father and friends kept his past from him, but he trusted them.  If they thought that he shouldn't remember, then they were probably right.

"Sneaking," Peter repeated.  He began to grow angry himself.  His own father didn't trust him.  He glared at the Captain and tried to regain his composure.  "I'd expect a pirate captain to maintain suspicions of his crew.  But what have I, a devoted son, ever done to earn my father's distrust?"

Hook stared at Peter.  He wanted to believe him, and the outrage in the boy's face nearly convinced him that he was telling the truth.  Still… if not Peter then who?  "You deny you did it?"

"I deny I even knew they existed!  I deny I would ever betray you and read them if I knew they were there.  I trust you with my life father, but you don't trust me.  If you can't trust me, how can you call me your son?" Peter paused and felt feelings of betrayal well up within.  "If my own father doesn't trust, respect, or love me, then I'm an unworthy son.  If that's the case, I'll take my leave at the next port, Captain.  I'll not stay where I'm not wanted."

Hook saw the hurt in his son's face and felt his anger leave him.  When his own feelings were clear, he sensed that Peter was telling him the truth.  Carefully, he set the youth back on his feet.  "Don't be daft, boy," he snapped, then grinned wryly, "not like your old man.  I'm sorry.  I just fear that if you remember, you might become like before.  That Peter I cannot trust.  You I trust more that anyone in the world, and you're the only person I feel safe enough to love."

Peter nodded, but the anger and hurt were still plainly stamped on his face.  Hook reached out to place his hook on Peter's shoulder, and the youth flinched as if he expected to be struck again.  _I've lost his trust now.  I have to give him something._  Hook sighed, feeling that perhaps it was time to give the boy some of the history he wanted.  _Sometimes the best lies are half-truths, and perhaps if I spin it correctly, he'll never ask again._

Hook opened his mouth to speak, but fear seized his voice.  _But what if it jogs him?  I could do the very thing I fear the most.  He imagined what Peter would say when he remembered, what he would do.  __He'd leave me.  I'll grow old and die alone, because the only person in the world I love will hate me.  Tears came to his eyes, and he grabbed Peter and hugged him tight._

Peter let the man hold him.  He'd seen the tears, and felt his father's fear, and it scared him.  His father was a hard, cruel man.  Peter was the only one that ever saw his softer, loving side, and he'd never seen his father cry.  Tentatively, he returned the hug, and stifled a gasp of pain as the arms tightened around him.

"God, Peter, I just don't want to lose you," Hook managed to say as he fought back his fear.

"I love you, father," Peter replied.  "Nothing could ever change that."  _I can hear his heartbeat.  Peter had been held by Hook numerous times, each time being when he was in the throes of a strong nightmare.  That was the only way to calm him.  But his very first memory was awakening to his father's heartbeat.  It had become a sound of security and sanity in his life and he took comfort from it._

Hook ended the embrace when he regained control of himself.  He patted Peter on the back, which brought a louder gasp from the boy.  "What is it?"

"Bookshelf, I think," Peter replied, grimacing.

"Take off your shirt and turn around."

Peter complied, wincing as he wiggled out of the shirt.  "My head hurts too."

_I should hang myself and be done with it,_ Hook thought.  Peter's back was very red, with prominent areas that were definitely going to bruise.  There was also a gash across his right shoulder blade.  He prodded Peter's scalp and found a large goose egg on the back of his head.  "You're bleeding.  Sit down," Hook ordered while he went to his desk to get something to doctor it with.

"Am I?" Peter found the rip and blood on his shirt.  "Damn it!  This was a new shirt!"  He sat on a footstool.  Hook sat in the chair behind him and began to bandage Peter's shoulder.

"I'm going to tell you something," he began slowly, considering his words carefully.  "You've passed sixteen a month ago, so I think you're old enough now to hear a bit of what I've been keeping from you."  He felt Peter sit up a bit and smiled.  "I'm going to be vague; I don't want you to have too many details that might jog you.  But you're not a child anymore.  It's time you started taking more responsibility for yourself.  More than six years ago, you fell under the influence of evil spirits…"

"Spirits?" Peter interjected.

"Ay, spirits.  Don't interrupt.  I know it sounds strange, but the old crew will verify me.  While you were under the control of these spirits, you were a hateful, malevolent, disrespectful hellion.  We clashed many times in battle, and you wanted nothing more than to kill me.  Somehow, you thought it would be great fun."

Hook paused a moment to consider, then pressed on.  "You grievously injured me, and for awhile I thought I would have to kill you to protect myself and my crew.  We were moored off an island, which you had the run of, and you would often sneak onto my ship.  You played cruel tricks and mocked me, trying to goad me into a fight.  You succeeded many times, and it was all I could do to not kill you.  The men wanted me to leave you there, but I wouldn't abandon you to those creatures.  

"Finally, one day I found a spirit that was unlike the rest.  It wanted to help me, and showed me how to exorcise the evil ones from you.  I caught you and did what was necessary, though you suffered tremendously from it.  It was a slow process, and took a long time to complete.  When it was over, you remembered nothing at all, not even from the time before the spirits took you.  I don't know if the amnesia was a last act of cruelty from the spirits, if I did it in breaking you away, or if you did it to yourself for protection.  The anniversary of that act is marked every year by your illness."

Hook finished with the bandage and turned Peter around to face him.  "I swore the men to secrecy and kept it from you.  I don't want you to remember because I know those memories hold pain for you.  You remember in your nightmares.  I know this because you talk in your sleep.  You strike out at me too, but if I hang on, you come back after awhile.  I also don't want you to remember because those evil influences are still there, sleeping.  They sometimes awaken while you sleep and talk to me through you.  I don't know if I can cure you again if you were to revert to your former state of insanity.  You say the most horrible things in your sleep sometimes."

Peter stared at his father, a horrified expression on his face.  It didn't match the horror he felt inside.  It was more than impossible that he could ever want to harm his father or his shipmates – it was inconceivable.  Something tickled in the back of his mind, and he felt that what his father said was not quite right.  _He said he would be vague, that's why it doesn't feel right… and because I don't want __it to feel right.  He tried to speak, but at first the words wouldn't come out.  _

Hook saw his son's difficulty and felt a flash of concern.  _If this is how you feel about my version, you certainly don't want to know the real truth.  Please take what I say and never ask me again.  And please, I hope this keeps you from ever wanting to learn more.  "Peter?"_

At last he found his voice.  "I – I don't know what to say, sir," he stammered and looked at his knees.  "I sorry for all the grief I've given you."

"Peter, no!" Hook said sternly.  He lifted the boy's chin with his hook and looked into his eyes.  "You have nothing to be sorry for.  You and I settled our differences long ago when I broke you away from the spirits, and I hold nothing from that time against you now."  Hook sighed and ruffled Peter's hair.  "Perhaps I should have told you this long ago, but you were still fresh from the ordeal.  You were too young to go through what you had endured, and I didn't want you to suffer through it again.  But now it's been six years.  It's been long enough for me to tell you more… but not everything.  I will never tell you everything."  His voice hitched and he stood up.  "Go back to your game.  You can tell the other men what I've told you, if you wish.  I'll tell them myself later what I've said, so they know what is safe to say.  I've got a mess to clean up right now."

"I'll help, sir," Peter said as he stood up.  He felt a wave of dizziness and shook his head to clear it.

Hook saw the boy sway and put a hand on his shoulder.  "No.  I've abused you enough for tonight.  Send Smee to me when you go down, he can help me."

"Ay, sir," Peter replied.  He felt strange and his mind was awhirl with too many thoughts to process.  He walked to the door, and a flash of something hit him.  It was quick, there and forgotten again in the blink of an eye.  But it left him feeling sick with dread and he remembered something Hook had just told him:  _You grievously injured me…. _ He turned and looked at his father.  _Don't ask… haven't you heard enough for tonight?  But I have to know._  

"Father, you said I injured you.  What did I do?"  Peter held his breath as he saw a strange, frightening look darken Hook's face.

Hook stared at him, torn between either sharing this last piece of information or closing the boy off again.  _Should I tell him?  If I don't, he won't ask me again.  If I do, what will be his response?  It is a powerful memory for me… was it the same for Pan?  Could this crack the spell?  He saw the fear and the need on Peter's face, and he decided.  _I owe him so much for what I've done to him.  I think I should give him this.  He won't like the answer, but it will drive home to him that I have a good reason to keep the truth from him.__

Hook looked at the steel claw on his right arm, then back up at the boy.  "You cut off my hand, Peter," he said softly, "and you fed it to a crocodile."

Peter felt the room spin around him and bile rose in his throat.  He leaned against the door and fought down the nausea.  "No," he whispered, "I'm sorry.  How could I? I…"  He felt his father's hand on his shoulder, but all he could see was that awful hook on the other arm.  _I mutilated my own father.  Somehow he got the door opened and wrenched himself out of the man's grasp.  He heard his father call to him - could feel the man's concern for him and knew there was no animosity there.  But he felt such loathing for himself at that moment he couldn't bear to be in his father's presence.  He ran down to the galley, barely touching the steps as he went down the hatch.  The men at the table looked up from their cards and stared at him in concern, but to Peter the eyes held accusations.  He didn't pause as he continued onward to the sleeping quarters._

"Woa, Peter, lad.  What's the rush, now?" Smee asked as Peter nearly knocked him over.  

_They all knew what I was, what I did, and they accepted me.  But I can't face them right now.  _"Cap'n wants you, bosun.  There's a mess in his quarters."  He went on to the hammock he used down here on the rare occasions Hook didn't want him in their room.  

Everyone looked at Billy expectantly.  He sighed, folded his hand and followed Peter to the bunks.  He saw his friend lying there with tears on his cheeks.  "What happened?" he asked softly and sat in a hammock beside the youth.

Peter didn't even bother to hide his tears.  He and Billy understood each other, and they had no silly qualms about appearing weak in the other's eyes.  "Too much," Peter paused for awhile, and Billy waited patiently for his friend to continue.  "Father thought I'd been into his logs, but we sorted that out… after he used me to redecorate our quarters."  Peter sighed, "I guess I deserve anything he does to me.  He told me a few things.  Some of what happened before my amnesia.  He told me that I was the one that cut off his hand."

"WHAT?" Billy was incredulous.  "Why did he tell you?  What else did he say?"

Peter related everything that had happened.  Billy sat quietly and listened, nodding his head.  He recognized how the man had generalized and opinionated the story to make it sound like Peter had been evil and Hook merely a concerned father trying to reclaim his son.  _But he never actually said that Peter was his son in that story.  He never explained how Peter came to the island… and now Peter's so afraid of what else he might be guilty of, he'll never want to ask again.  Oh that man is truly the slickest liar I've ever known.  _

"I'm sorry, cully," Billy said when Peter was done.  "I wish he'd never told you that."

Peter looked at his friend pleadingly.  "Please, tell me it isn't true.  Tell me that I'm not a monster that would mutilate his father."

"You're not a monster!" Billy admonished.  "What the Cap'n said is kinda right…" he faltered, unsure of how to proceed.  _I can't call Hook a liar, the man will kill me the slowest way he knows how… not to mention it would kill Peter to know his dad's lying to him; 'course, it's killing him now to believe the line that his 'dad' just fed him.  For perhaps the millionth time, Jukes felt himself torn between his promise and duty to his captain, and his loyalty and love for his friend.  And for the millionth time, he betrayed his friend by taking the Captain's side.  "He stayed fairly vague, and from his standpoint and most of the crew's it's true.  You did torment us a lot, you and those 'spirits'.  And you did cut off Hook's hand.  You and he fought and he dropped his guard.  I was there, I watched it happen.  I'm the one that made the hook for him."_

"And I fed it to a crocodile?" Peter whispered.

"Ay, Tock, the biggest critter on the island.  Hunted Hook the entire time we were there, wantin' the rest of him."

Peter closed his eyes and clenched his fists.  "I don't deserve to be his son."

Billy stood up.  "No.  Peter you're a good man.  You've changed the Captain, for the better.  Before you, we didn't take prisoners.  Well, he'd let the women live, but all the men and boys were killed.  Before you, Hook would beat a crewman senseless for looking at him the wrong way.  He's happier now, calmer, more understanding.  He's still fairly evil… yeah Peter, the man's a murderer for all you love him," Billy said sternly when he saw Peter about to protest.  "You've given him conscience and a better reason to live than to look for treasure.  It's Hook that don't deserve _you."_

Peter didn't respond, and Billy could see the boy was seriously depressed.  "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."  He was gone only a few minutes, and when he returned, he carried a pitcher of ale and two pint mugs.  "Let's have a toast to friendships and buried hatchets, bucko.  You need a pick-me-up."

A few hours later, two very inebriated young pirates were passed out in their hammocks.  The rest of the men (not including the night-watch of course) turned in to sleep, first stopping to give Peter very sympathetic looks.  Hook himself had just finished briefing them on what he'd told Peter, and renewed his orders to everyone that it was not to be discussed, ever.  The men who had joined up post-Neverland looked at the unconscious boy with new-found respect.  Any ten-year-old that could best Hook in a duel and cut off his hand was no-one to mess with now that he was sixteen.  The men who had been with Hook in Neverland looked at Peter sadly.  They were all fond of the boy (loved him in their own ways), and they regretted that they had contributed to his pain.  They could imagine what Hook's story was putting Peter through, and not a one of them liked it.  But as with all matters between the Captain and his son, it was best to stay out of it and pretend that nothing was wrong.

_That lying son of a TROLL! _Dria fumed.  _I've never heard such a smooth line of dung in my entire existence!  No wonder Peter's all mixed up._  The little fairy quivered with rage.  It had taken every scrap of self control she possessed to not interrupt and tell Peter that the pirate was lying.  _Peter wouldn't have believed me, and then Hook would have squashed me.  Now he'll never believe me.  He'll think anything I say will be to subvert him.  _She knew the only way to get him out of Hook's clutches was to make him remember.  _Tink_ can make him remember.  She has to come here, or we have to get Peter to Neverland.__

She was sitting in her nest.  Nighttime was the hardest time to stay hidden.  As a fairy, she glowed and was easy to spot.  As a wren she was harder to see, but a wren flying at night miles and miles from land was suspicious.  As she puzzled for the million and first time on what to do (she really wasn't cut out for this kind of work), she heard an odd noise.  Her bird-head peeked out to see what was going on.  

Captain Hook and another pirate were standing by the railing, and the crewman was carrying a trunk.  _That's the trunk with the books I was reading!_  She watched, alarmed, as the pirate threw the chest into the sea.  Hook nodded and went back to his quarters.  _No! the pixie thought in alarm.  She had been planning to go back to the books after a few days.  She flew to the railing and looked down.  The trunk was floating, but the ship was quickly leaving it behind._

Flying quickly, Dria alighted on the trunk and changed back to her fairy form.  It only took her a second to decide what to do.  She began sprinkling dust on the trunk and chanting a spell.  There was a brief glow, and the chest rapidly shrank down to the size of a thimble.  The change was a lot more sudden than she was expecting, and she nearly toppled into the sea.  _Idiot!  Go ahead and drown yourself.  You'd be just as useful as you have been so far._  She carefully fished the trunk out of the water when it reached the crest of a wave and flew back to her nest with in.  _Now that Hook won't miss this, I can read it at my leisure._

Once she got settled back in the nest, she discovered a serious set-back.  The chest was locked.  If it had been human sized, she could have reached in the keyhole and picked it like she did before.  Since it was now fairy-sized, she couldn't pick it without some kind of tool.  _I've never been good at lock-picking, but I guess I have time to practice._  She knew several spells for opening things, but she didn't dare try to put another spell on the chest.  Spells could be tricky if you put one on top of another, unless it was a counter-spell.  Anything could happen if she did a knock-knock spell over an itty-bitty spell.  The trunk could explode, or grow large again, or turn into a frog and leap away, or any number of impossible things.  _Maybe I could break the lock… or find a nice place below where the men don't usually go and grow the chest big again.  Then I can unlock it and shrink it again.  But she was still frustrated so she decided to wait until later, then promptly rolled over and went to sleep.  Inspiration is born of dreams and she seriously needed some inspiration right now._


	5. Little Boy Lost

It was a few hours later that Hook was summoned to collect his son.  Peter lay in his hammock, crying out in that strange language that gave everyone chills but no one understood.  Hook groaned when he heard a bit of what Peter was saying.  Pan was out again, and he was getting loud.

"Pan, you are persistent aren't you.  Go back or I'll hog-tie you," he growled in the boy's ear, not wanting the others to hear him.  

Pan froze when he heard the man's voice, then he whimpered a bit.  "Don't want to fight," he said slowly.

Hook stepped back in shock.  "Well, that's a first," he mused.  "I'm taking you to our room.  Stay if you want, but no tricks or I'll tie you up and leave you till morning."  Without waiting for an answer, he picked the youth up, slung him over his shoulder, and made his way to their room.  Pan was rarely ever strong enough to take full control of Peter.  Even if he tried anything, he was unarmed and weak, and couldn't do any harm.

He put Peter in the bed and covered him up.  He had just decided that Pan had gone back into the oubliette of the memory spell when he spoke again.

"Touch me… please," he said softly.  "Let me feel something."

"What?" Hook asked in confusion.

"So cold in here… so alone… please let me remember… what it's like to feel." Pan began crying again.  "So cold."

Hook felt uneasy with this strange exchange.  Pan wasn't acting like he normally did.  The other half of Peter primarily came out in some of the worst of Peter's nightmares, usually when they'd been at sea for too long.  Those times he was incoherent, railing against Hook and swearing vengeance.  Once a year, on the anniversary of Peter's amnesia, Pan would gain some control and awaken.  He'd scream at Hook, and usually had to be restrained to keep him from doing something drastic like killing himself or the Captain.  The last two years, Hook had used ether to keep the boy incapacitated for the duration of the day.  Pan would fight with every fiber of his being to break the spell, and the closer he came to succeeding the worse it affected Peter when Pan once again receded.  That internal struggle was the true cause of Peter's yearly illness.  

But this time Pan wasn't fighting, and it made Hook suspicious.  He placed his bare hand on Pan's cheek, and to his surprise the boy merely pressed against him and sighed. "It's so lonely here, just me and the memories.  I've lived our life so many times, I'm tired of it.  No feeling, no sight, just faded memories."  His sobs intensified and his nose began bleeding more.  "Please help me… I don't want to go back.  Please, I promise I'll be good.  I promise I won't talk to Peter.  If Peter grows up, the spell will lock and I'll never ever get out again.  I wish you could kill me without hurting him."

Hook felt a searing pain in his heart, and a series of emotions flooded him:  fear, emptiness, despair, and grief.  He realized that this was how Pan felt, the emotions flooding through their link with Peter into him.  He jerked away in horror, breaking his contact with the boy.  The ache was still there, but it was greatly reduced; apparently he needed contact with Peter to sense Pan.  "Go back to sleep Pan.  I can't help you, go back."

The boy gave a wail, and his nose began bleeding worse than before.  "Please, help," he sobbed.  Hook left the cabin, going out on deck to get away from the cries.  "I'm sorry," Hook whispered, breathing deeply to calm himself.  "I did things so badly, I didn't consider that you might be aware.  I thought you a collection of memories and hate.  I wish I could help you, but I won't risk Peter.  He's better off without you."

After awhile he dared to go back into his room.  Peter lay still, and when Hook called to him there was no answer.  Hook wet a cloth and wiped the blood off of his son's face, careful not to wake him.  He wasn't certain the one that awoke would be Peter.  _Six years… six years existing inside the memory spell, unable to feel or see or do anything but relive his life through those memories.  And every time he was able to peek out, or reach through the bars of his cage, I've been there beating him back.  If he ever gets free, I'll deserve the death he'll give me._  Hook sat on his bed and wept.  He wept for the pain he'd given the only person he'd ever loved, and he wept for Peter Pan, the eternal child he'd utterly destroyed.

In her nest where she could hear the entire exchange, Dria wept too for the lost little boy.

To say that Peter was depressed the next day would be a huge understatement.  At breakfast, he barely spoke and wouldn't look his father in the eye.  He had no real appetite and spent the entire mealtime picking at his food.  When his father dismissed him, he quietly went about his duties.

Hook didn't do anything for awhile to dispel the boy's mood.  He was fairly depressed himself.  He kept thinking about Pan, and it upset him.  _Pan cut off my hand and I cut Pan off from the world.  He'd dreamt badly all night, which was frightening because he rarely ever dreamed._

In his dream he fought Pan, and the boy was still the ten-year-old from Neverland.  At the end of the battle he defeated the boy.  He chained Pan in a cage and, brick by brick, walled the cage up.  The wall was imperfect, having small cracks to let in a little light.  But the only things of the child that could get out were his screams and cries of despair.

_I'd free him if I could, but not at the cost of Peter's life or his sanity.  I won't fight Pan anymore, no matter how he tries to fight me.  His brief times in control will be as comforting as I can give him.  No one deserves to be buried alive._  He tried not to think of what else Pan had told him:  when Peter grew up, he'd be locked in forever, and never be able to come forward again.  

Peter was mostly depressed because of what his father had told him the night before.  He felt guilty for the pain he'd caused him, and he believed himself to be an unworthy son.  Everywhere he went on the ship, he felt out of place and alone.  Mullins, Mason, Starkey, Cookson, Little and McNeery had been with him since the beginning, and he thought of them as uncles more than as shipmates.  Smee was for all intents his grandfather, and Billy was his brother in everything but name.  They were his family and he loved them.  But they'd known about what he'd done, and he couldn't face them right now.  His duties forced him into contact with the crew, but if he bent himself to his task he could forget everything for a bit and didn't have to look them in the eye.  

But there was something else wrong with him, and he couldn't understand it.  For weeks he'd felt odd, like there was someone else on the ship, watching him.  He'd feel a tingle, and turn to see who it was, but there was never anyone there.  It didn't bother him so much right now, there were other feelings that were distracting him.  He felt lonely and lost and there was an emptiness within his soul that ached.  They were his feelings and they weren't… it was a lot like when he sensed his father, but he knew it wasn't coming from the Captain.  This other source felt different.

And to top it all off, he had the worst headache he'd had in a long time.  It was nearly as bad as the one that accompanied his yearly illness.  He was thankful when his father cancelled lessons for the day, and he spent that time taking a nap, hoping the rest would ease the pain.

Dria hadn't gone to sleep last night after listening to Hook's conversation with Pan.  She'd immediately taken the trunk below to a dark storeroom, enlarged it, and picked the lock.  It was easy to shrink it again and carry it back to her nest, and she'd been reading the journals nearly non-stop since then.  She had realized that the boy was running out of time, and knowing that Pan suffered so gave her all the urgency she needed.

She'd found Hook's entries about his alliance with Shimi and the charm he'd made under her guidance.  Dria was furious when she realized what spell had been put on Peter, and how Hook had twisted it when he cast it.  She'd been horrified at Hook's recount of Peter's escape attempt, and had seen the man's own feeling of horror and remorse in his logs when he'd figured out what he'd done to the boy.

Hook was meticulous in his notes, and he was very vivid in his description of healing Peter's mind.  _He's bungled this spell so much it's a wonder Peter survived.  But for a human he's actually done fairly well.  Shimi, though… what was she _thinking_, putting this spell over the memory spell?  She has no excuse for what she's done!  It doesn't matter that she tried to make it easier on Peter.  The Feyan will banish her to the mists for this!_

She kept reading, pausing only to eat and nap when her body forced her to.  Pan was right, if Peter grew up the other soul would be locked away forever.  As long as Pan could still get free, there was hope that Peter Pan could be restored to Neverland.  She didn't understand how the split in Peter's personalities came about and why that created two souls in one body, but she still had a long way to go in the journals.  If Hook had any inkling about how this happened (and from his comments he obviously knew something), then everything he knew and thought on the subject would be recorded in these books.  She would not stop until she knew everything Hook did.

"Cap'n?" Jukes approached the man carefully.  He knew both Hooks were in bad moods, and he didn't want to irritate either one… it could be dangerous. 

"Yes, Mr. Jukes?" Hook turned to the teen.

_He looks tired,_ Billy thought.  "Is Peter doing something else for ya, Cap'n?  He's supposed to help me with th' cannons, but I've finished one already and he hasn't showed."

Hook frowned.  Peter never shirked his duties.  If he was sick, he had to be ordered to bed because his sense of duty wouldn't let him rest otherwise.  _That's why Jukes is worried enough to come to me about this.  He'd never rat on Peter unless he thought something was wrong with him._  "I'll find him and see what's kept him.  Get Johnson to help you, the lad needs to learn."

"Ay, Cap'n," Billy nodded and left.

Hook went to his cabin and found Peter asleep in the bed.  He called the boy's name, and Peter awoke with a start.  "Shirking your duties, lad?" he asked mildly.

Peter hung his head.  "I'm sorry, Cap'n."  He stood and went to leave, but Hook snagged his arm before he could get far.

"Did I dismiss you, boy?" Hook growled in irritation.

Peter sighed and faced the man.  "My apologies, sir.  I'm not myself today."

_You haven't been yourself for six years,_ Hook thought sourly.  "Sit boy, I want to speak with you.  The air has become too clouded since last night and I need to clear it."

Peter took a chair and waited.  He knew he was in trouble and he hated that he'd upset his father.  He just didn't care about being punished.  To his mind, anything he got was justified.

Hook sat down and stared at his son.  "I'm sorry Peter," he said finally.  "I'm sorry for everything.  One day you'll remember and when that happens remember that I'm sorry."  He held his hook up when Peter tried to interrupt.  "I've wronged you so much, when you remember it all you _will_ hate me.  That's fine, I expect it.  I just hope that you'll eventually forgive me.  I never should have taken you away from them."

"From who?  The spirits?" Peter said softly.  He felt his confusion grow when his father nodded.  "I'm glad you did!  How could I _not want to be with my father?  Why would I ever want to stay with evil spirits?"_

Hook winced and looked away.  _I _am_ his father.  In my heart and his, I am his father.  I will not deny him as my son, ever!  Even if he remembers and denies me, he'll still be my son.  "You were happy there, Peter.  You had friends and you could do anything you wanted.  The spirits gave you abilities normal children – and normal adults – don't have.  You were happy, you were free, and you would have lived forever.  I took everything away from you, I chained you to me, and I condemned you to a mortal life and eventual death.  I am truly sorry, Peter."_

Peter stared at his father in disbelief.  The words he'd spoken to him shone so brightly with truth that it nearly blinded him.  "Live forever?" he whispered.  He shook his head, "I don't care about that.  I have friends here, I have people that I love and that love me.  Who wants to live forever?  It sounds boring.  I don't care what my life _could have been like.  I'm happy with you, and I'm happy with what I remember of my life…"_

"Don't try to make me feel better!" Hook snapped.  "I nearly killed you three years ago, and that was just the _last_ time I nearly did it!  I've better control of my temper now days, but how many times have I hit you?  Last night I hurt you, and don't tell me your back isn't bothering you this morning.  I don't beat you like my father beat me as a child, but I've put my hand on you too many times for my liking."

"Yes, you've hurt me," Peter said slowly, "but I'm not afraid of you.  And we both know that I _can_ beat you in a fight if I wanted to.  What matters to me is that you've been there for me a hundred times more often that you've hurt me.  Any time I'm hurt, sick, or afraid, you help me and stay with me till I'm better.  And when someone wrongs me, I know you'll make it right."  He sighed, "Father, I love you.  I'll make you a deal:  if I ever remember and I become what you fear, I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me for all the grief and pain I've given you."

Hook chuckled for a moment at the boy's naivety.  "You'll find that a hard deal to keep."  He tried to envision what he would do if Peter Pan came back… _I don't know what I'd do.  I had Peter Pan in my hands for awhile before I wiped his mind, and I became rather fond of him.  But what if I feel only hate when I see Peter Pan again?  Could I kill my own son?_  "Yes, Peter, I'll forgive you.  I already have, but I'll do it again if you regain your memories."

Peter smiled, but Hook could see something else was wrong.  "What else is bothering you?"

"I don't know.  Something strange is going on.  I feel someone else's feelings, and it's not you.  I feel sadness and loneliness and it's so strong I want to find this person and help them.  My heart aches for the child."

"Child?" Hook frowned.

Peter closed his eyes and explored the feelings.  "It's a little boy.  Do I have a brother somewhere?  Is our bond inherited?"

Hook knew better than to lie.  "My only child is sitting right in front of me."  Peter was his adopted son, he'd done it officially but quietly in London five years ago, to ensure that if he died the boy could legally inherit his possessions (Hook wasn't the name he used there, he took Peter's given name as his own alias.  Peter knew that legally they were James and Peter Morgan, to keep Hook's assets from being seized).  "I felt those feeling too, last night.  I told you the spirits' influences are still inside you.  Last night they spoke again.  I think what you are feeling is from the memories that might have been stirred in your sleep, and are merely echoes of what you went through as a child."

"Perhaps," Peter said softly as he considered it.  The presence was familiar, and if it weren't that he knew he was sensing a child he'd swear it was a twin brother or something.  "I think maybe you're right, sir."

Hook nodded and stood, "Do you feel better?"

Peter stood also and shook his head, "No, but I can deal with it better.  I hate that I ever hurt you, father, but if you've forgiven me then I can forgive myself."

"That's a good start.  Now, I believe Mr. Jukes wanted your help," Hook said as he escorted the teen outside.

"Oh, damn!  Long Tom and the cannons!" Peter groaned.  "Billy's going to give me so much shit."  Hook laughed and Peter found that he could join him.

A week later, Dria sat in her nest and listened to the Captain and his son as they bantered over a game of chess.  _They do love each other.  But Hook's hurt him so much, does he deserve Peter's love?  I've read his journals, all of them from that time, and he does regret the harm he's done, but is that enough to off-set the evil?  Dria sighed and carefully flew to the top of the mainmast.  __They need to know what I've found out.  They'll know what to do and tell me.  She cast her spell, and watched in satisfaction as the small shaft of light streaked away, carrying her message.  Contained within that shaft was everything she had learned and seen, and a few comments of her own about what she thought (she didn't think a Feyan would care a whit about what she thought, she was a lowly pixie after all… but she was the only fey here, so her opinions might be useful)._

Not knowing what else to do, and knowing better than to leave the ship, Dria went back down to her nest.  _I guess I could re-read the logs… maybe I missed something they need to know.  She hoped someone would come soon.  She needed off this ship.  The short times they'd weighed anchor and gone ashore wasn't enough to sustain her much, and she felt herself wearing away._

 She heard the summons through the dreams and swam to the surface of her sleep.  The voices urged her to return, to end her vigil, to find the child that was stolen.  _Stolen?  What child is stolen?  The voices explained, the knowledge they imparted bringing her speeding back to life.  _

Kaylee opened her eyes, gasping for breath for the first time in ages.  "PETER!" she screamed at the stars.  She tried to sit up, but the effort was too much for her so she rolled over on the stone altar.  Oberon, Matias, Tatiania… dozens of Feyan stared at her in sympathy.  

Kaylee fixed her eyes on Matias, the Elven King.  "Where is that son of a bitch hiding my son?" 


	6. Dreams of Redemption

It was several nights later when Dria got the answer she had been waiting for.  She was asleep, and she dreamed of a human girl she had not seen for ages.  The woman thanked her for her efforts and reassured her that something would be done.  Then she told Dria what she must do next.  Dria awoke, knowing she had dreamt truly.  She looked in her hand and saw a large bag of dust.  This wasn't _her dust, this was the dust of a Feyan pixie, Oberon himself.  Even had the dream not told her, she would have known it was special by the power she felt within it.  _Oh wow, _was all she could think for a bit.  Eventually she overcame her awe and her fear and crept from her nest.  There was no hiding her glow now, if she changed to a bird the dust's power would kill her.  This dust contained a very specific spell, and it was meant for one man and one man alone._

_Please, Lady, I hope Captain Hook doesn't wake up when I dump this on him.  They _do_ remember he was a bit allergic to pixie dust, don't they?_

Fortunately it was a warm night, and the windows had been left open.  She flew into the cabin and hovered over the pirate captain's bed.  He lay on his back, snoring softly, oblivious to the glowing girl above him.  She glanced over at Peter, but the boy lay facing the wall, lost to his dreams.  She fumbled with the pouch, nearly dropping it at one point.  But she got hold of herself and poured the glowing blue dust onto Captain Hook's face.  His breath hitched as it settled, and his nose twitched a bit.  But the dust disappeared as it landed on his skin, completely absorbed, and Hook calmed and settled into an even deeper sleep.  

Dria glanced at Peter, hearing the boy moan a bit.  _It's__ okay, Peter, let them look.  I can't put this spell on you, there's too many on you as it is.  But there're none on Hook, and he_ can see into your mind for us._  Satisfied that her job was done, Dria flew back to her nest and reverently set the bag aside.  It had come to her from King Oberon and was now a treasured possession._

Hook stood on the deck and watched his son.  The boy was wearing only his pants, his toned and tanned body glistening with a sheen of sweat.  He fairly danced with his sword, dodging and parrying effortlessly.  His opponent was also shirtless, the larger, older man just as honed in body and skill.  Hook wasn't terribly surprised to see that Peter's opponent was his father.

_A dream,_ Hook thought in amusement, watching his other self spar.  He'd had dreams before where he'd known it was a dream.  It was rare, but if Peter's nightmare was especially bad it could bleed through their link.  He'd recognize the dream as not being his and could stay distant from it, even awaken most times. 

"He's beautiful," a woman's voice said softly.

Hook turned and saw a woman standing beside him.  She had brown, slightly curly hair, and her eyes were a deep blue.  She looked so much like Peter it was startling.  It took him a moment to recall where he'd seen her before.  "Kaylee," he whispered in shock.

"Call me Katherine, the children called me Kaylee.  You've raised him well," she continued.  "He's strong, well-mannered, compassionate, and you've seen to it he's educated.  He has his dreamer's soul, intact and relatively unmarred, in the poised and deadly body of a fighter.  I don't know how you managed it, but you've done well.  He's coming into his full potential.  But, most importantly," she looked away from Peter and stared at Hook, "he loves you and he's happy."

"I'm dreaming," Hook tried to reassure himself.  "You're just a dream."  He was afraid of this woman, she had deeper ties to his son than he did.  "Peter's mother is dead."

"Yes," she smiled, "you are dreaming.  Dreams can be real, though, when they touch upon the realms of spirit.  I am real, but I walk the realm of dream as surely as I can walk reality.  My son has been found, and I have been awakened for a short time, to see that he is well.  Because of the magic you've used, I cannot touch him directly, so I'm using you to reach his mind.  He's not ready to see me right now, he may never be ready.  You and I, however, have much to discuss."

The scene changed a bit.  Peter and Hook still fought, but it was three years ago.  A thirteen-year-old Peter struck in a flurry of moves, his feet lifting from the deck for a few seconds, allowing him to dodge and get within Hook's defenses.  In triumph the boy crowed, and the man roared in fury.  He buried his hook in the child's shoulder and tried to strangle the boy.  Peter screamed and fainted from shock, and the other men had to pull his father off of him.

Another change and it was more recent.  They were in Hook's cabin.  Hook and sixteen-year-old Peter were arguing, the boy denying Hook's accusations that he'd read the journals.  They watched as Hook slammed his son into the bookcase, then into the wall, hurting Peter.

Another change, and Hook sat atop ten-year-old Peter Pan, carving an insignia on the boy's chest, then strangling him to the point of death and beyond.  His complete dominion over the boy's soul allowed him to command Peter back to life, but the boy's mind was broken.  Another change, and another.  They watched each time the man had abused the child he claimed to love.

Hook had always regretted those times he'd lost control and hurt Peter.  He reeled now under the onslaught of memories, watching the pain blossom in his son's face and hearing the boy scream over and over again.  He sank to his knees, sickened with himself and tried to close his eyes.  Even then he could still see the images.  "Please, stop," he whispered, and it did.

"You've hurt him," Kaylee said softly, the anger in her voice unmistakable. 

"Yes," he answered.  "I don't deserve him.  I've hurt him, but I love him so much.  Please don't take him from me."

"I have no intention of taking our son from you," Kaylee answered, staring down at him.  "But changes must be made, and I will explain why.  Whether Peter leaves you or not is up to him.  As much as you've hurt him, this is what he thinks of when he remembers you."

The scene changed, and Hook sat beside the thirteen-year-old Peter's bed, reading to the pale child.  Peter's shoulder was heavily bandaged and his left arm was in a sling.  But Peter was smiling, enjoying the story, and his other hand clasped the steel hook.  There were no recriminations in his eyes.

A change, and Hook held a sleeping Peter, night after night, through the years, calming the boy and driving away his nightmares, giving the lost and frightened child the comfort and reassurance he needed.  

Peter with chicken pox, his father dabbing the sores with ointment to give him relief.  

Hook and his men breaking into a dark room, where Peter and Billy were bound and naked.  Hook killing the perverse man that had kidnapped the eleven and thirteen year olds, killing him before he could harm the boys.  Hook and Mullins wrapping their cloaks around the crying children and carrying them to safety.

Peter sitting silent in their room, haunted by the ghost of the child he'd killed.  Hook knelt before him, assuring him yet again that it had been self-defense, taking the blame upon himself for not being there to protect Peter, for making him fight in a battle he wasn't ready for.  Peter saying "Daddy" softly, then being embraced by the man.

The images came and went, a hundred times more of them that of the images where he'd hurt Peter.  They showed all the times Peter had been sick or hurt or frightened.  Each time, without fail, Hook had cared for him, giving him his love and support, his rare soft side showing plainly for the boy to see.

"You were _always there for him.  You gave him the love and security I could not," Kaylee said softly, bending down to stare in the man's eyes.  "I always regretted that Peter's father would not be a father to him.  I regretted more that I had to leave him behind, alone in Neverland while I walked the mists.  You took him for the most selfish of reasons:  vengeance.  You broke him mind and gave him amnesia for selfish reasons:  anger and hate.  But you give yourself selflessly to him in all the other ways that count.  You have been the parent I could no longer be.  You do him a disservice in thinking he would hate you if he remembered his old life."_

Hook stared at the woman, not quite understanding.  "I never should have taken him, but I'm glad that I did.  My life was empty before Peter; I was driven by greed and hate.  He's the only light in my life, and he's given me a better reason to live.  He's saved my soul."  Hook looked down, feeling awkward in trying to explain his feelings and motivations.  "I don't deserve him," he repeated.

"Few parents deserve their children," Kaylee said with a chuckle.  "All we can do is try our best to be worthy of them, by loving them and teaching them to be worthy in their own time."  Kaylee sighed and wiped the tears that welled in her eyes.  "I forgive you, James.  I forgive you and I hope that our son forgives you, too.  I'm sure that he will, but if he comes to me one day with his doubts, I will speak on your behalf.  As much as I loved seeing him as a little boy, I always intended for him to grow up one day, to have children of his own.  I just always thought it would be when _he_ was ready to grow up."

She stood and gestured for Hook to do the same.  When he did and looked around, they were back on the ship.  "But because of the manner in which you acquired Peter, there is a lot of doubt in our minds that Peter will ever get the chance to grow up.  And if he does manage it without going mad, he won't outlive you by a day."

Hook frowned, dread clawing through him at the affirmation of his fears.  "What do you mean?"

"There is the matter of Pan.  Take me to him," she ordered.

"I don't know where he is," Hook protested, uneasy.  _She won't forgive me anymore when she finds Pan._

"He's someplace dark.  It's a place Peter Pan associated with fear and grief, a place he'd never wish to return to.  This ship," she gestured around her, "is the representation he's showing to me of his mind.  You would see it as something else."

"A cloud," Hook muttered, "Peter always seemed a cloud to me, until that last time when I saw two boys."

Kaylee nodded.  "Clouds are fairly accurate.  But this ship is for me to understand, it's less personal that what he's allowed you to see.  Every part of this ship symbolizes an aspect of his mind.  Of every place on this ship, what would symbolize the absolute prison you have locked Pan away inside?  The brig?"

Hook thought a moment, then shook his head.  He remembered the talk he'd had with Pan.  _Dark, cold, lonely…_  "No, he's in the Box."

"The Box?" she asked in confusion, then frowned as she remembered the information in Dria's message.  "The hole you hid Peter in, to keep the fairies from finding him."

Hook nodded and walked to the hatch.  "Ladies first," he said politely, helping Kaylee step onto the ladder.  Together they went down to the deepest bowels of the ship.

They stood together by the trapdoor.  The noise was muffled, but they could hear the boy within as he cried, pleading to be let out.  They could hear the sound of scratching and knew he was trying to claw through the wood.  Kaylee sank to her knees and began crying at the pitiful sounds, her hands pressed to the wood.

"Shh, baby," she called, "Mommy's here.  It's okay.  I promise I'll let you out soon."  The cries continued.  Kaylee looked up at Hook, anguish in her face.  "He can't hear me."

Hook knelt beside her, torn with indecision.  The sounds of panic and despair pulled at him and he felt sick with guilt.  He'd exiled the boy to this existence and he felt an urge to open the door and let him out.  But fear stilled him.  What would happen to Peter?

Guessing his thoughts, Kaylee decided for him.  "We cannot free him yet.  The spell binds him too tightly right now.  There is only once a year that he could be freed…"

"The anniversary of when I imprisoned him," Hook finished.

Kaylee nodded.  "Even then it may not be weak enough.  Pan cannot escape on his own, not even when he was stronger could he do this.  You must free him."

Hook drew back, balking at this slip of a girl telling him what to do.  "Why should I free him?  Pan embodies everything I hated in Peter Pan!"

Kaylee glared at the man, feeling him try to harden his heart against Pan.  "There is _every_ reason to free him.  I'll show you the one that _should_ move you to help him, above all the other reasons.  If it doesn't, then you truly do not deserve to have Peter."

The scene faded and Hook found himself in a small dark room.  There were holes in the ceiling, walls, and floor, enough to allow the feeble light to stream inside.  The cries were louder, yet muffled in the cold, dead air of the room.  A shape moved beside one wall, hovering around the largest of the holes, which was barely large enough to let a few of the child's fingers through.  Chains were affixed to his wrists and ankles.

"Let me out," Pan wailed, scrabbling at the hole.  Hook could see the gouges in the wall, and saw with horror that the boy's fingers were torn and bloody, and a few fingernails were missing.  "I'm sorry!  I won't fight anymore!  I promise I'll be good.  I'll never speak to Peter."  The child sobbed… and he was a child.  He was still the ten-year-old Pan, clad in the brown clothes and cape he'd worn in Neverland.  "I'll make myself love you, I'll learn!  I'll be good, so you'll want me like you want Peter.  Let me out!"

Hook closed his eyes, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.  "Katherine," he turned, but she was gone.  He looked around frantically, but he was alone with Pan.

"I'm sorry, I'msorryI'msorry," the boy repeated fervently, as if the words were a magical chant.  He sank to the floor, curling up into a small ball.

Hook tentatively reached for the boy and felt a shock when his hand closed on Pan's shoulder.  Pan shrieked and jerked, suddenly aware of his presence.

"No more!  No more memories, stay away!" he sobbed.  "You're not real!"

"I don't know how, Pan, but I'm here," Hook said softly.  "I'm so sorry I did this to you.  I didn't know you would be awake in here.  I didn't really believe you were real and had feelings."

Pan backed against the wall, panicked.  "Codfish!  Don't – don't hurt me.  Please let me out."  He held out his hands beseechingly, oblivious to the torn skin.  "I'll be good!  I'll show you!  You can love me too."  He faltered and sagged limply against the wall.  "But you can't love me.  No one wants me.  That's why they let you take me away.  That's why you threw me away and kept Peter.  Peter's good, he gave up and let you have him.  I'm bad, I wanted to go home to my friends and to my mommy.  Mommy died and left me.  Daddy didn't want to be my daddy.  Even the fairies will kill me if they knew what I am."  He began sobbing.  "Kill me, please?  Let me out, kill me.  I don't wanna stay here anymore!"

Hook took the unresisting child in his arms and held him tightly.  He saw so much of Peter in this boy that he couldn't look at Pan without thinking of his son.  _He is a part of my son, and he's hurting_.  "If I can, I promise I will free you.  Please don't cry anymore, Pan."

Pan sat rigid in the man's arms, the sensation overwhelming him.  It had been so long since he'd felt anything but cold and pain.  "You hate me," he said flatly.

"I did," Hook answered.  "I thought that I still did, but seeing you again, seeing you like this… I can't hate you."  He gently stroked the boy's hair and continued to speak.  "You're my son.  You are a part of Peter, and I was wrong to try to cut you out of him.  You're just a child, a child I have wronged for too long.  I hated too much to let myself see you as a child – how could I not have?  I was stupid!  I knew Peter Pan's mind had split into you and Peter… how could I think one was real and the other wasn't?  I'm so sorry."

Pan closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of being held.  It calmed him, gave him focus and restored some of his rationality.  "I hate you so much, Captain," he said after awhile.

Hook sighed but didn't relinquish his hold.  "I know, and I deserve it.  I just hope one day you'll forgive me."  He held the boy so they could see one another, wincing a bit at the anger glittering in the child's eyes.  "I love Peter, and for him I'd do anything.  I'm afraid to release you, because I'm afraid you'll hurt him."

"I'd never hurt Peter.  He's why I let us stay so long."

"You made him cut his wrists when the cannon blew up on Billy."

"No," Pan shook his head.  "Peter wanted to die and so did I, to get away from you.  We weren't so split then, he didn't know I was there.  He cut himself, and I didn't help him or tell him to.  I just didn't stop him.  When we saw Billy was alive, I made him forget what he'd done."

Hook nodded and pulled the boy close to him again.  "I want you to keep trying to get out.  Whenever you manage to come forward while Peter sleeps, I won't fight you anymore.  Keep fighting," he lifted the boy's hands gently, staring at the torn flesh, studded with splinters, "but don't panic or lose hope.  Once a year the spell weakens a lot…"

Pan frowned, trying to think, to understand.  "There's no time here.  Every day is forever.  But sometimes the holes get big and I can get most of myself out.  The magic wrapped around here catches me, keeps me from going far.  But I can come forward and see…" he gave a strangled cry.  "You keep me tied up when I wake.  The last few times that I got out, I couldn't wake up.  It was the same as being in here, almost worse… it was my turn and I couldn't… it wasn't fair."

"From now on I'll help you.  When the day comes that it weakens, I will do everything I can to pull you out for good."

Pan frowned, suspicious.  "Why?  Aren't you afraid I'll make Peter hate you?"

"Peter deserves to have you back," Hook replied, though the thought filled him with dread.  "If he can't forgive me once he knows everything, then I haven't been a good enough father to him.  I can't live without him, and I'll give up my life to help him."

Pan looked at Hook strangely, head cocked to one side.  "You're different now.  I still hate you, but I'll try not to.  Maybe instead of me making Peter hate you, he'll make me love you."  He looked down at his fingers.  "I'd rather love than hate.  Hate hurts too much.  I've lost everything because we hated each other."

"I'll see you free, and I'll see you and Peter rejoined into Peter Pan if it's still possible.  The fey know you're alive, they're the reason I'm able to be in here with you.  Just wait a bit longer, and you and I will work everything out face to face, in the real world."

Pan nodded and relaxed against Hook's chest.  "I'm so tired.  I don't like to sleep, the memories come then.  No dreams, just memories."

Hook gently rubbed the boy's cheek, remembering when he used to hold Peter cradled like this.  _God, I miss him being this young.  I wanted him to grow up, and now that he nearly has I miss the child he was._  "Go to sleep; rest and save your strength.  You'll need it for when the spell relaxes.  If you can, try to remember any happy times you had with me, times when both you and Peter didn't hate me so much.  Think of your mother, and your friends.  Perhaps you'll see them soon."

Pan closed his eyes and thought, and the memories didn't hurt as much anymore.  _Maybe I will see them again.  Codfish is different, maybe he'll help me.  _"Please don't betray me, Captain," he whispered as he drifted off to sleep.  "I can't hold on much longer."

Hook studied the sleeping child's face, noting his haggard look.  The pain etched in his features, the exhaustion and weakness.  He was pale and thin.  He looked like he was wasting away.

"He's dying," Kaylee's voice came from nowhere.  "He won't last much beyond this next anniversary.  You've given him hope, and he'll live to see it now.  If he finds himself still here after that, he _will _go insane.  When he does, Peter will follow.  Sometime after that, Pan will fade away and die.  Peter most likely will not survive without him.  There is a slim chance that you could bind him to your even more tightly, prolong his life and maybe even rescue him from the madness.  But your own life expectancy will diminish, you'll tire to death in maintaining him.  And when you die, the spell will not be broken as you've believed all these years.  It is a binding of souls.  When one of you dies, the other will be dragged along with it to the afterlife.  Even with the best case scenario, Peter won't live to see thirty-five… you've had a hard life, Captain.  I doubt you'll see a ripe old age."

"You don't have to continue," Hook growled, "I've decided to free him.  Damn you, woman, for playing my conscience against me.  Damn me, for ignoring it and causing this problem to begin with!  If I'd have left him alone on that island for a little while, like he'd asked, he'd still be Peter Pan.  Maybe he eventually would have loved me and become my son."  Hook laid Pan on the floor and covered him with his cloak, some small protection from the cold air.  "It was such a small thing he wanted… just some time alone.  I was afraid he'd escape or get hurt, so I denied him.  I'm still afraid that Pan will hurt Peter, but I have to trust my son now, like I didn't trust him before.  I'll free Pan, I'll help him any way I can.  And I'll help Peter when he remembers.  And if he proves me right by not forgiving me, I'll let him go."

Hook found himself sitting on the deck once more, and Kaylee sat before him.  "Thank you for letting me do this the easy way, Captain," she said softly.

"What was the hard way?" he asked in disbelief.  _How can freeing Pan and enduring my son's hate be the easy way?_

"To drag your ship to Neverland.  To break the spell by force and bonding Peter with Neverland again, allowing you to die in the process.  This way allows you to make up for what you've done, by helping us to set it right.  This way Peter can still have a father."

"What of Nibs?" Hook wondered.  Pan had told him long ago that the only reason they didn't remove the earring was for Nibs.  They feared that replacing him in the weave of Neverland's magic would kill him.

"Being bonded to Neverland is hurting him more than you know.  He didn't ask for it, it was forced on him.  Peter was born with elven blood, so it was a natural thing for him.  I was pregnant with him when I was bonded to Neverland, and a mother shares the same blood as her unborn child.  It didn't hurt me at first because of that, and by the time that protection had worn off, I was adjusted to the burden.  Nibs suffers whenever someone uses strong magic in Neverland, he's never been able to accept the strangeness and won't allow it to flow through him correctly.  Being broken from Neverland will not hurt him any more than being connected to it is."

Hook sighed and looked away.  "I wasn't warned of that."

"You'd have done it anyway," Kaylee chided.

Hook nodded, "Ay, I would have."  He looked at her again.  "Now what?"

"It's going to be difficult, but this is what you must do to prepare Peter for Pan.  There is a chance that in freeing Pan we break the memory spell.  Suddenly having the split personality back will be bad enough.  Suddenly remembering what you've done to him could push him too far.  You must tell him the truth.  Let him read your logs, they won't jog his memory… the memory spell is too strong for that right now.  It won't be such a shock later when he finally remembers."

"I tossed them overboard," Hook growled.

Kaylee laughed, to his surprise.  "They were saved by a very frustrated pixie."  She gave him a hard look.  "I'm going to tell you of her, but there are conditions.  If you or any or your men harm her, I will send a legion of mermaids to sink your ship and bring Peter and you here so I can break you apart myself.  Do not let Peter see her for awhile, you've biased him with your twisted truths about so-called spirits."  When Hook nodded, she continued.  "Her name is Dria.  Some fairies heard Peter playing his pipes in the woods not long ago.  They'd have left him alone, they didn't recognize him, but he played fey music which intrigued them and made them suspect.  They sent for Dria, who knew Peter Pan in Neverland.  She recognized him despite the spells, and followed him to your ship.  She's been living aboard since then, gathering information and unraveling the puzzle.  She will help you prepare Peter, and she will guide you back to Neverland.  He must come here if we can ever hope to restore Peter Pan."

Suddenly the ship disappeared, replaced by a dark forest.  There were bodies lying about, dead children.  From somewhere close by came a roar and a woman's scream.

"By the mists," Kaylee gasped in shock.

"I think he's having a nightmare," Hook explained, a bit alarmed by the change in the woman's face.  Her self-assurance was gone and she stared at the bodies strangely.  _She recognizes them, he realized, and his suspicions were verified in the next instant._

"Lydia, Poe-poe… Joshua," she whispered the names of the dead children nearest her.  Then she closed her eyes tightly.  "No.  I killed the beast and freed their souls.  They are at peace now."

"Perhaps we should leave Peter's mind," Hook suggested.

Kaylee nodded.  "I've told you everything you need to know for now.  Dria knows the rest, and she can contact me if you need anything else.  Go in peace Captain.  For our son's sake - and yes, I mean to share him - for our son's sake don't betray us.  You must undo the damage you've done."

Hook didn't get to reply.  The images faded and he found himself wide awake, staring at the ceiling.  He heard a moan and looked to Peter, who was tossing in his sleep.  He sat up quickly and went to the boy to calm him.  

_The fairies know,_ he thought as he held the youth.  _One of them is on my ship.  They want me to restore Pan and let Peter remember who he was…  What if she told the truth:  Peter will go mad and die if Pan isn't restored?  I can't risk that.  I won't let him suffer that fate!  I said I'd give up anything for him, and I will.  I'll give him up if it will save him.  I can't gamble that she would lie about something like that._  

He looked down at Peter, watching the frowns and hearing his gasps as he fought through the dream.  He stroked the boy's cheek, contemplating the past six years.  "There's an old saying:  If you love something, let it go.  If it comes back it's yours.  I'm going to put that to the test, Peter, I'll let you go.  And if Peter Pan comes back to me, I'll be the happiest, luckiest bastard in the world."  

But even as he promised this, the dark, selfish part of his soul snarled in rage.  Peter was _his_!  He won him, and he did not wish to part with his prize.  _I wonder if I can still love him if the spell were broken…_


	7. Harsh Truth

Peter awoke in his father's arms, disoriented but not surprised.  He opened his eyes and groaned at the familiar, dull ache in his temples.  "Father?" he called softly, seeing the man staring down at him.  When his father didn't respond and continued to stare at him, Peter frowned.  "Dad," he called louder.

Hook blinked, then helped the boy sit up.  "Good morning," he said lowly as he went to his desk and pulled out the bottle of whiskey.

"Good morning," Peter answered, glancing at the window.  The sky was lightening, dawn would break soon.  _What's the whiskey for?  I'd be waking soon anyway, so I don't need it to go back to sleep…  He gaped in shock as his father tossed back a double shot of the whiskey, then poured another.  "Father, what's wrong?"_

"Bad dream," Hook muttered as he stared at the amber liquid, trying to decide if he needed the second drink.  _Better not, I'm too upset to lose any self-control.  I need to think clearly.  He poured the whiskey back into the bottle and put it away._

Peter nodded in understanding and began to get dressed.  "What was it about?" he asked, trying to dispel the uncomfortable quiet.  _I wish he'd quit staring at me like that._

Hook watched Peter for a little while longer, seeing the child he once was in the body of the young man.  "The past.  You as you were on the island.  Your mother."  _I might as well.  I've decided to tell him the truth.  I just wish I knew the best way to say it.  I always say the wrong things in the worst way._

Peter froze and slowly turned to face his father.  _He's never mentioned her_ before._  "My mother?" Peter asked carefully, wondering if he'd heard wrong._

"She died on that island, died saving your life."  _Maybe I need that extra shot.  I can't believe I'm saying this to him!  "You saw her die… that was the nightmare you had last night."  He walked up to the boy, feeling a flash of sympathy for the boy's confusion and sadness.  He took one of Peter's hands and turned the wrist up, exposing the scars there.  "It was too much for you to bear.   The first time you tried to kill yourself was because you wanted to join her."_

"The _first time?" Peter whispered, staring at the scars.  He'd wondered about a lot of his scars, including these, since he remembered obtaining few of the ones he had.  He'd known very little about suicide until he'd met a girl in Port Royal two years ago.  She'd asked him about these scars in particular and had explained how someone could kill themselves this way.  He'd known better than to ask his father, and Billy had turned an odd shade of grey when he brought it up._

"Peter, you and I are going to have a talk.  Last night I dreamed something so terrifying, it made me change my mind about everything.  I'm going to answer all of your questions about who you were, and how you lost your memories.  I'm not going to be vague, and I'm not going to give you my side of the story.  But I also want you to be prepared.  I'm going to tell you a lot of things that I don't want to say and you don't want to hear: like hearing about those scars."  Hook returned to getting dressed.  "Go get our breakfast and tell Little to hold command for now.  Tell Smee to get someone to fill in for you."

"Ay, sir," Peter answered, dazed.  Fear and dread clawed through his gut, remembering the terrible things his father had told him before.  He paused at the door and looked at his father.  "I – I've changed my mind, father.  I don't want to know anymore.  You've only mentioned bits, but it sounds horrible.  I want to stay happy with you."

Hook chuckled at the irony.  For years Peter had resented the secrets Hook kept.  Now he was poised to receive the information he'd wanted for so long, and now he didn't want it.  "It doesn't matter what either of us want anymore.  You're life and the life of a young child depends on this.  I'm freeing both of you and I need you to keep your backbone and stay strong for the boy.  I didn't raise you to be a coward."

Peter drew up at the near insult.  "Coward?" he fumed, but then he registered what else the man had said.  "A young child?  A boy?"

"Go, Peter.  I can't answer your questions at random, everything is hopelessly complicated.  I'll have things in order for you when you come back."  He returned the nod Peter gave and added, "Do not tell anyone we're talking about this.  Not even Billy.  I don't want anyone interfering with their own opinions and versions of the story, not until you know everything _I_ have to tell you."

"Ay, sir," Peter repeated and went to go get breakfast.  He was both excited and afraid, and he wondered if he'd be able to stop shaking long enough to carry the tray.

Hook waited half a minute, then called aloud, "Pixie?  Dria or whatever your name is, come out.  I know you're here."

_Here I go,_ Dria thought nervously and flew from her nest to the windowsill.  "Heh…" she cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how rusty her voice had become from lack of use.  "Hello, Captain Hook."

Hook sighed, a bit relieved actually at seeing her.  He'd had just gotten a nasty idea that it all really had just been a dream, and he was going to drive his son away for no purpose.  "Come in, we should speak."  He sat at his desk and watched her fly in.  She alighted on the far end of the desk, out of his immediate reach.  He dismissed the sudden urge to squash her and took a moment to study the tiny girl.  "You remind me of Tinker Bell," he said at last.

"She's my sister.  We both were born from Peter's first laugh," she said softly.

"Does that make him your father?" Hook mused, trying not to smile.

"We don't think of it like that.  We have a special bond to him, we can feel him better than any other fey.  Most of my brothers and sisters left Neverland when we felt him die.  It hurt too much and a lot of joy went out of our lives."

Hook nodded.  "I'm surprised Tinker Bell herself isn't here."

"She got too upset when she found out that Peter was alive.  They don't trust her to not come here and kill you, so they made her stay in Neverland.  She blamed herself for Peter's death, she felt she'd neglected him.  But she has to care for Nibs, to ward him while the fey use magic so that he doesn't hurt so much."

Hook grimaced and looked away.  "I need my journals back."

Dria went to her nest and retrieved the trunk.  She set it on the desk and stepped back out of reach.  "There you go."

"It seems to be a lot smaller than I remember," Hook said wryly.  He watched in interest as Dria removed the shrink spell.  When the chest sprang back to full size, several books and maps were knocked off the table.  "Thank you."

Dria smiled a bit, then looked at the door.  "Peter shouldn't see me yet.  He feels me, I see him looking over his shoulder from time to time when I'm watching him.  But he doesn't know what to look for so he never sees me.  I'll go back to my nest now."

"Where is it?" he asked, curious.

"It's in an eave above your window, so I could listen to you talk to Peter."

Hook opened the chest, then glared at the fairy.  "I'd tell you to move, except I don't know when I may need your help.  Still, I don't like creatures spying on me, especially when I'm having private moments with my son."

"Until this morning, Captain, you were considered on of the most heinous criminals Neverland had ever seen.  I haven't considered it spying; I was gathering evidence and preparing the way for a rescue."

Hook began sorting the journals, putting them in their proper order.  "Why did your kind allow us to escape with Peter?  I expected retribution for his murder."

Dria hung her head a bit.  "Stupidity.  We didn't realize you could escape Neverland's hold.  We thought we had more time to find Peter, we weren't convinced yet that he was truly dead.  Once you left the isle's borders and entered the open sea, we couldn't find you.  That convinced us he was dead; we thought he could never be removed from the island's influence against his will.  We didn't consider that you'd used magic."  Dria hovered for a moment.  "Good luck, Captain," she said softly, then returned to her nest.

Peter eyed the stack of journals as he ate.  He'd tried engaging his father in some conversation, but the man merely grunted and remained quiet.  So they ate breakfast in silence, studying their bowls intently.

Hook sighed when he finished eating, disappointed that there was no food left.  _Quit hiding, coward, and face him,_ he told himself sternly.  He looked at his son and tried to smile.  He was terrified.

"You've always wondered why you don't resemble me in the slightest," Hook began.

Peter stared, stricken.  _No, no, no, shut up!_  He'd always wondered about that, even asked once, but the look his father had given him had kept him from ever asking again.  He'd always told himself it didn't matter to him… but it did, and he didn't want his suspicions confirmed.  "Aye, Father."

"You are a mirror of your mother.  Your build, your hair, eyes, mouth, nose… you could be her twin."  Hook wanted to pace, to look away, to do something to break the intensity of Peter's panicked stare.  "You are my son.  You will always be my son.  But I never knew your mother."

Peter fought to catch his breath.  _It doesn't matter, I love him and he loves me.  People are adopted every day, this changes nothing!  "How… how did I become your son?" he asked weakly._

Hook took a deep breath and considered his next words.  He could be brutally blunt and say 'I kidnapped you,' but that would make things so much worse.  He could dance a bit and say 'You were my cabin-boy and I adopted you when you forgot everything.'  Too many questions that way.  _Start at the beginning and go through to the end.  Let him get the details from the books._

"I'd not had the _Jolly Roger long, and my only crew were Smee, Mason, Mullins, Starkey, Cookson, and Jukes.  There was a storm and we found ourselves near an island.  I had us moor there to make repairs.  That's when we met the Lost Boys."_

"Lost Boys?" Peter repeated quietly.  There was a brief tickle, then it was gone.  "Who lost them?"

"Their parents, I imagine.  I captured two of them and pressed them into service.  You came looking for them."  Hook thought a moment and continued, "You lived there, on that island.  These Lost Boys were your friends and you were their leader.  You fended for yourselves, with no parents or caretakers.  When I told you of this earlier, I wanted to dissuade you from ever wanting to remember.  I told you my version of the truth, which is vastly different from how you would have seen it.  And I embellished a bit," Hook added, turning a bit red.  "You were a little hellion, and you gave me grief… but you weren't evil and you weren't possessed.  There were no evil spirits, those creatures were fairies.  That whole island was soaked in magic."

"I don't understand," Peter interrupted.  _He lied about it?  Stretched the truth is all, just a stretch of the truth.  He was used to listening to Mullins and his superstitions, so spirits and ghosts were something he'd believed in readily until quite recently.  He'd accepted that there had been spirits on the island, but fairies were a bit more far-fetched than he was willing to go.  _

"Let me finish.  When you came to my ship that day to rescue your friends, we fought.  I ordered them killed, tossed to a crocodile.  They escaped but you and I didn't realize that.  You were grief-stricken, and I laughed at your weakness in loving your friends.  My amusement at your loss enraged you and we fought again.  I underestimated you, I thought you a mere child, a castaway.  You cut off my hand in retribution for the deaths of your friends, and you tossed it to the beast you thought had consumed them.  Afterwards, you found they lived and all of you escaped."  Hook stared at his hook thoughtfully, the memory of that day still as sharp and painful as ever.  "I nearly bled to death.  Smee nursed me back to health, with the help of a native healer that lived on the island.  When I was recovered, I swore vengeance."

Hook stared at Peter and leaned in close to the boy.  He saw Pan for an instant and felt again the anger and pain.  "I vowed to kill you, Peter.  You and I became mortal enemies, and I swore I'd never leave until I saw you dead."

Peter recoiled at the malice he felt in those words and stood quickly, knocking over his chair.  This couldn't be true!  His father loved him!  But he felt the naked truth of Hook's words and he sensed the negative emotions:  anger, hate, fear… all directed at him.  Peter's hand went to the scar on his breast.  "No, you'd never want to kill me," he whispered, "I'd never kill you…"  He couldn't breathe, tangles of emotions overwhelming him, his father's and his own swirled together and clashing.  But the hate was bright and clear.  "How can you hate me?  I thought you loved me!" he wailed, falling to his knees. 

Hook rushed to his son in alarm.  _Stupid IDIOT! he chastised himself, __You let your old feelings get in the way!  This is your SON!  "Peter," he called, pulling the boy into his arms, concentrating on his love for the boy.  "I do love you.  I love you more than anything!  This is just the beginning of the story, and in the end you're my son."_

"I feel it," Peter said softly, suddenly wary of being in the man's embrace.  "I feel your hate."

"It's not for you, it's for Peter Pan," Hook said softly.

"Who?" But Peter felt a stirring.  He felt a flash of a young boy, felt the despair and grief… and hate.  Hate for Hook.

"Your name was Peter Pan when I met you.  The island was called Neverland.  I did hate Peter Pan, and I'll never rid myself completely of it.  You'll understand why when you read my logs.  One day I caught you and I was going to kill you.  You never ever feared me.  You were always cocky and willful, and that enraged me more than anything else.  So I was about to kill you, and you stood defiant before me, awaiting your death.  And I changed my mind.  I decided I could hurt you worse.  I allied with an elf to get my vengeance.  I kidnapped you, and I made everyone that loved you believe I'd killed you."

"Kidnapped?" Peter repeated numbly.  Too much shock so far was making it hard to be surprised at this.  "You stole me?"

"I'm a pirate," Hook smiled a bit, "I steal things I want.  I wanted you, and as far as I was concerned there was nothing wrong with taking you.  I had to use magic and I botched it royally.  You nearly died so many times on this ship, and I mistreated you.  But as time went on, I grew fond of you and you came to trust me some.  But the magic I used caused problems.  I tried to do something one day I shouldn't have, and the result was that you lost all of your memories."

_That_ got through to Peter.  He drew back and pulled himself out of his father's embrace.  Anger swiftly built within him, and he let it clear away his confusion and fear.  "You – you did this to me?  You took my _life from me?  HOW COULD YOU?"_

"I didn't know…" Hook tried to explain.

"You LIED to ME!" Peter screamed.  "You told me I was your son!  You told me you loved me!  The very first words you spoke to me were LIES!"

"It was a chance to start over," Hook tried to calm the boy.

"NO!" Peter yelled, lashing out with his anger and feelings of betrayal.  He breathed deeply and stood, backing away from the man.  "No.  My life is a lie.  _You are a lie.  I'm tired of lies.  My God, this entire ship is a lie."_

Hook stood also and tired to steady himself.  He didn't understand at first why Peter was reacting this badly, but he quickly saw it.  Peter had built his entire world, his very identity, on his trust in his father.  _I've destroyed his trust in me.  I've just taken away everything he believed in.  "I'm sorry, Peter." _

Peter shook his head.  "Don't!  Don't speak to me, Captain.  For six years I've listened to you and believed in you.  I can't trust _anything you say now, so don't talk to me."  He turned to leave, needing air, needing room to think._

"Boy!" Hook snapped, becoming angry himself at Peter's unwillingness to listen.  "I haven't dismissed you!"

Peter glared at the man.  Very deliberately, he opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind him.

Hook sat in his chair, the strength leaving him completely.  He suddenly felt very, very old and tired.  Peter's anger burned hot, and no matter how much he pulled back, he still felt it.

"Captain Hook?" Dria called, standing uncertainly on the windowsill.

"He hates me," Hook sighed.

"Give him time.  Peter never stays mad long," Dria said, seeing how upset Hook was.

"You don't realize how much he's changed.  Peter Pan never stayed angry.  Peter Hook can hold a grudge as well as I can.  When we bonded, we shared some of our qualities.  He gave me tolerance and a conscience that I can't ignore.  I gave him a cruel streak when he's angry and an overdeveloped sense of vengeance.  He won't let go, not for awhile, unless I can give him something else to turn his attention to."

"The journals?" Dria suggested.  "They'll help him understand why you lied.  They helped _me understand, and his mother too."_

Hook felt a sudden liking for the pixie.  _She's actually trying to make me feel better.  Why?  "Can you keep an eye on him?  Without anyone seeing you?"_

"I'll try.  I've gotten better at sneaking around."

"Thank you," he nodded, and she flew off.

Peter stood outside the cabin, half-expecting the Captain to follow him.  He glared at the men on deck, not caring if anyone saw his anger or his tears.  He was itching for a fight, a way to relieve the volatile emotions pent up inside him.  His relief found him a minute later.

"Peter!" Billy called.  Everyone on deck had heard the shouts coming from the cabin, and Billy was concerned for his friend.  He approached Peter, slowing a bit at the look on the teen's face.  "What's wrong, cully?"

Peter glared, his anger finding a target.  _You traitor!  You were supposed to be my friend!  You were someone I could count on for anything and you betrayed me!  "Go away, Mr. Jukes," he growled, clinging to his self-control and trying to warn the boy away._

Billy stood still, watching Peter warily.  He'd seen this look before, the rare times Peter had been out to hurt someone in a fight.  _Mr. Jukes?  He never calls me that._  "Let's go below and talk, Peter."  He put his hand on his friend's shoulder, realizing his mistake an instant too late.  He felt a searing explosion of pain in his cheek as Peter's fist connected solidly, and then blackness engulfed his senses.  

Peter stared at the unconscious young gunner lying face up on the deck.  A lot of his wrath drained away when he saw how Billy's face was already swelling, trickles of blood running from his mouth and nose.  He went to the rigging and began climbing.  The anger was less, but there was still so much of it left.  He needed to get away before he did anything worse… he could kill someone right now and be glad about it.  _Air.__  I need air.  It stinks down here.  Men scurried out of his way, relieved when his gaze didn't lock on them.  Finally, he reached the top and glared at the man there.  "Get out of my nest or I will throw you out," he growled coldly._

The stunned man took one look at Peter Hook and scurried down the lines, nearly falling in the process.  Peter climbed into the lookout and sat down.  He closed his eyes tightly and began to cry.

It was mid-afternoon before Peter came down again.  Hook had resumed command of his ship and the entire crew was skittish.  The Captain's cold, distant manner was unsettling, and they were wary of his mood.  It was obvious the man and his son had fought, and it was apparently a bitter argument.  And after seeing how Peter had treated his best friend, they knew no one on board was safe.

But Mullins was extremely pissed, and he wanted answers.  As soon as Peter's feet were on the deck, he confronted the youth.  "Boy, I don' know nor care what disagreement you and th' Cap'n had.  There weren't no reason to take it out on Billy!"

Peter stared at him coldly.  "He's a liar.  Captain Hook is a liar.  _All of you are liars.  I don't like being lied to."_

Mullins narrowed his eyes, not quite sure what Peter was getting at.  _What did Hook tell 'im? He didn't deny they'd lied to the boy.  That wasn't the point.  "Just thought ya should know, since you and Billy are best _friends_ and all, ya've hurt 'im pretty bad.  He ain't woke up yet."_

Peter blinked, his cold façade cracking.  Concern filled him, muting the anger for now.  "What?"

"Think ya might'a cracked 'is cheekbone.  He definitely cracked th' back'a 'is head when he hit th' deck.  He didn't see it comin', ya caught him flat."  Mullins took some satisfaction at the worry and guilt filling the brat's face, and his own vindictiveness took over. "But you didn't know that.  Ya didn't ever care enough ta check on 'im."  Mullins pointed his finger an inch from Peter's nose and backed him against the mast.  "Ya've been up there sulkin' for th' last eight or so hours!  Nice ta see yer still the self-absorbed, selfish little demon ya always were!"

"Mullins!" Hook yelled from the wheel.  "Enough!"  He'd let the man carry on thus far because Peter had been out of line, but if he wasn't calmed down this could easily get out of hand.

But Mullins was wound up too much.  He rounded on Hook in fury.  "How many times ya gonna let the demon-boy try ta' kill my Billy!?" he screamed.

"Take that man to the brig before I cut out his wagging tongue!" Hook roared, beginning to advance on the two.  Mason and Little grabbed Mullins and escorted him below.  Mullins had the good sense left to not resist.

Hook stood facing Peter, who was now an alarming shade of green.  He'd hoped Peter would come down calmer so that they could continue their talk.  Instead of merely chastising the boy, Mullins had seriously upset him.  "Peter," he called softly.

"What did he mean?  I tried to kill Billy before?" Peter asked softly.  "Don't lie to me."

Hook sighed and looked around.  All the men were staring, waiting to hear what would be said.  Hook felt a flush of annoyance at them, feeling exposed and weak.  He was supposed to be the Captain out here, not Peter's father.  Deck was duty, their cabin was for familiarity.  But now it was everyone's affair, and to take Peter aside would be playing favorites.  "When I first brought you aboard, you and Billy hated each other.  You pulled malicious pranks to get each other in trouble.  You sabotaged Long Tom one day, and it blew back on him.  Hurt him pretty bad, and at first glance we thought he was dead.  I beat you within an inch or your life for it.  That second set of scars on your wrists is where you climbed into the crow's nest and tried to go that last inch on your own.  I nearly lost you both that day, and that's why I don't like you being up there for very long."

Peter stared at his wrists.  For some reason even he didn't understand he began giggling.  _I think I'm going insane, he mused.  _Maybe I'll feel better if I throw up._  He sank to his knees weakly._

"You could have just told him it was an accident, Captain," Starkey said quietly.  "It _was_ an accident; you didn't have to add the part about his suicide attempt."

"The game's up," Hook growled, watching Peter in concern.  "Neverland's found Peter.  They won't take him from us, but they've made me aware that I have to restore Peter Pan.  If I don't, my son will die."

"You know what, Captain?" Peter chuckled, wiping away his tears.  "I'd rather have died tomorrow believing I could trust you, knowing I was your son, than live for eternity betrayed by my father."

Hook winced, but he stuck to his resolve.  "And I'd rather lose you as my son than watch you die when I could have prevented it.  I'm your Captain, so we take _my course in this matter."  He knelt before the boy, keeping his gaze locked with the other's.  "You'll understand more when you've learned the details.  There's so much that happed during that time that I just can't explain all at once."_

Peter shook his head.  "Not right now.  I can't take any more right now."  He looked at his hand, which was swollen and bruising.  "I need to see Billy."

Hook nodded and backed off.  He looked at Starkey.  "Give Mullins a bit more time to cool off, then go check on him.  If he's calm, let him out.  If not, give him more time.  He's worried about Billy, but I don't want him to lash out at Peter again."

"I deserve it," Peter said softly, getting to his feet.  "I'm a demon, remember?"  He smiled, the grin twisted by his inner pain so that it resembled a snarl.  "I don't belong here, I'm just your little pet.  I'm an enemy you captured and crushed into a younger you, to satisfy your vengeance."  He began to shake, the anger welling inside him again.  "Has it been worth your time?  Kidnap a child you hated and make him into me?  Is this another way to get your revenge – make me love you and trust you, then rip it all away again?"

Shame flooded through Hook at the accusation, it was too close to his original plan.  Quickly the shame turned to rage.  _How can he think that?  I've done everything for him!_  Furious, he lashed out without thinking and backhanded Peter as hard as he could.  He watched in horror as the boy crumpled to the deck.  "God DAMN me for a fool!" he roared, bending to check on Peter.  The youth was out cold.  He picked his son up and carried him to the brig, calling for Starkey to follow.

Mullins paled a bit when he saw Peter lying limply in Hook's arms.  _Cap'n's__ gonna hang me if I jogged 'im.  He stepped back when Starkey unlocked the cell._

"Get out, Mullins," Hook growled, "Go tend Billy."

Mullins scrambled out the door and watched as Hook laid the boy on the cot.  The Captain then pulled a crate into the cell and sat on it.  "Give me the key, Starkey.  Have Smee bring me the stack of books on my desk."

The men left quickly and Hook was able to relax a bit.  

"Why did you bring him down here?" Dria asked from a corner, her glow hidden by a crate.

"He assaulted a crewman," Hook growled.  "That's my official reason.  I don't want him doing something else idiotic, and he wasn't being rational up there.  I've just turned his world upside down.  Down here he can't get in a fight, avoid me, or harm himself.  He needs space away from everyone else, and he needs to read my journals."

"Why are you waiting here?"

Hook looked up at her, "After what happened to Billy, I want to make sure I haven't hurt him too much.  I'll leave when he wakes up." 

"I'll wait with you," Dria said.  Together they sat in silence and watched Peter sleep.

Peter opened his eyes, grunting softly at the dizziness and the burning throb in the side of his face.  _He hit me, again._  His father had hit him lots of times (not frequently, but over the years it added up).  He'd always justified it to himself:  he deserved it; his father knew best; he was teaching him; he shouldn't push the man's buttons.  But right now, Peter refused to justify any of it.  _Did I deserve his hate all those years ago?  Did I deserve to be taken away?  Is there someone out there that misses me, that's sad because they think I'm dead?  Do they_ deserve to be hurt?__

"Peter," Hook called, relieved to see the boy was awake.  He leaned forward, concerned, when Peter didn't respond or look at him.  "Peter," he said more firmly.

Peter's eyes flicked to the side, seeing Hook.  He saw the worry in the man's face, he could feel the love and concern Hook had for him… but now that he was aware of it, he could easily pick out the traces of animosity and anger Hook held for him and it tainted the love.  Peter turned away and pulled back, blocking the link he shared with his father.  He didn't want to sense the man, he was having a hard enough time with his own feelings.  He faced the wall and remained silent, deciding it was safer to not open his mouth.  _I'll just piss him off again and he'll hit me… again._

Hook sat back when Peter withdrew, feeling his sense of the boy diminish to a whisper.  "You're angry and hurt," he said.  "I understand.  I had every reason to keep the truth from you.  We were enemies and I kept hurting you.  I didn't want to hurt you anymore, but…" he sighed in frustration.  "Peter, you were mentally unbalanced.  I broke your mind with the magic I used.  It became an intolerable situation for us both, and when I tried to… fix it, it backfired and erased your mind. I wanted you to have peace, I wanted to stop us from always fighting each other.  So I called you my son, and it was the best decision I ever made.  I love you Peter.  These years I've had you have been the best years of my life."

Peter closed his eyes, pain welling in his heart at the tone of the man's voice.  He wanted so much to throw his arms around his father and forgive him, to go back to how things were yesterday.  But he couldn't, not quite yet.  _How can I trust him?  He's an expert with lies.  And I won't lie to him and pretend it doesn't matter._

Hook stood and frowned at the way Peter flinched at his sudden movement.  _He's lost all__ trust in me.  That realization wounded him deeply.  "Read the journals while you're down here.  I'll come back in the morning.  I'm confining you here for your malicious assault on Mr. Jukes.  I can't treat you differently than I would any other crewman that did what you did."_

"Is Billy awake yet?" Peter asked softly.

"No.  It's bad, Peter," Hook put his hand on the boy's shoulder, trying to make him feel at least a little better.  "He's had worse knocks, son.  He'll be fine.  I'll let you know when he wakes up."  Cursing himself for an insensitive fool, Hook left his son alone and returned to the deck.

Peter couldn't remember ever feeling so alone.  His father wasn't his father - he was some man that had taken his life away for spite.  He'd attacked and seriously injured his best friend and the rest of the crew were angry at him for it.

Peter lay awake for awhile, staring at the stack of journals.  His "father" had beaten him on the suspicion that he'd read these, and now he'd left them here with orders to read them.  He actually resented that, a lot.  That was the incident that had prompted Hook to tell him he'd rescued Peter from that island, even though Peter had maliciously cut off his hand for fun. Today that had all changed.  Now the story was that he'd stolen him from people that loved him on that island, in retribution for cutting his hand off in a fight Hook himself had provoked.

_What kind of man vows to murder a ten-year-old?_  That thought scared him, and if it were true then he really didn't know his father at all.  He knew Hook was harsh and he knew he could be cruel.  Hell, he lived on a ship manned by cut-throats!  They fought and robbed for a living.  But whenever they attacked a civilian ship, boys serving on board the captive ship were given quarter and usually left at the next port.  Any women were given separate rooms above the Captain's cabin and left at a respectable port or somewhere they had relations to go to.  Rape of the women or the boys was punished swiftly, the offender usually begging for death.  Hook would only grant that plea if the rape victim agreed, and it was surprising how few times that happened. Hook didn't have patience for any child but his own, but he'd never tolerated one being harmed by his men.  _And yet he admitted we fought because he ordered two boys fed to a crocodile.  He wanted me dead once._

He looked away from the journals.  _I can't read those.  Give me time, father, and I can forgive this.  I don't want to find something in there that makes me hate you._


	8. Runaway

Billy came to with great effort.  His head hurt so much he wanted to die.  He groaned, protesting awareness and prayed for any sympathetic deity to grant him unconsciousness again.  _This can't be a hangover… it hurts too much._

"Lad," Mullins whispered.  "C'mon, open yer eyes.  Show me yer okay."

Billy heard the worry and quit trying to go back to sleep.  "Robert?" he said weakly.  He opened his eyes to slits and was relieved that there was only a candle's worth of light in the small room.  In the dim light he could make out the mustached face of his oldest friend.

"By Pew's deadlights, boy, don't scare me like that ever again!  I didn't think ya'd ever wake again," Mullins growled softly, fighting back tears.  "Yer th' closest thing to a son I got.  I'd die if I lost ya."

"Was there an explosion?" Billy muttered, remembering waking like this once before long ago.  "Or did a yard-arm fall on my head?"

"Yer so-called friend punched ya," Mullins snapped.  Then he sighed and put a wet cloth on Billy's cheek again.  "Peter's gonna need ya, lad.  Hook's tole 'im th' truth."

"What?" Billy gasped.

"Aye, that's why th' boy was so pissed.  He lashed out at ya.  Cap'n said he had to tell.  He's talked with those of us that were in Neverland.  Said there's a pixie aboard, and the whole island knows we got Pan.  So Hook's decided _he should be th' one that comes clean to Peter."  Mullins shrugged a bit, "I can't blame 'im, he owes it to th' boy.  Peter's takin' it hard, though."_

"Neverland's found him?" Billy whispered.  Dread filled him.  _They can't have him back!  If they know…they'll seek justice.  They'll come for us, and for…  Billy frowned.  __Who else?  He felt something stir inside him, a memory of something dark and unpleasant.  He was too dazed and disoriented from his injury to understand as the seed in his mind awakened and began to take root, spreading its tendrils and taking control._

Mullins continued to rattle on, telling Billy what Hook had told them.  He didn't notice the change in the boy's eyes, the way they hardened and glittered.

"Mullins," Billy interrupted, his voice steady now.  "I'm still tired.  Would you let me alone for a bit?  My head hurts."

            The older man smiled.  "Aye, lad.  I understand.  I gots ya in one of th' other cabins, away from th' noisy lads.  You should sleep fine here.  I'll check on ya in th' mornin'.  There's some food fer ya on th' table there."  He gave the boy a light pat on the shoulder and left him to rest.

Billy sat up and looked around.  The pain in his head didn't bother him now.  It was muted, distant… like it was happening to someone else.  It didn't matter.  _She's been found out.  It's too late to save my Mistress.  But I have to make sure her vengeance is maintained.  Neverland can't have him back – one way or another, Peter Pan is not going back to that island ever again._

Billy stepped into the brig and stared at the boy lying in the cell.  Peter was facing the wall, seemingly asleep.  Billy cocked his head to the side and sniffed.  _Pixie, the thing whispered to him.  He quietly crept to a stack of crates in the corner.  The crate on top was empty and lidless, and when he looked within he saw the small winged girl was fast asleep.  _Stupid little bug,_ he thought and very gently touched her on her head.  She gave a soft gasp but soon stilled again.  __Sweet dreams, he thought as he lifted her up and dropped her inside a small pouch._

Peter heard the noise when someone entered the brig, but he didn't bother rolling over to see who it was, preferring to pretend to be asleep.  But then he heard Billy's voice, calling for him to wake up, and he sat up quickly.  Peter winced at the sight of his friend.  Billy's left eye was nearly swollen shut and his cheek looked like he had cloth stuffed in that side of his mouth.  Billy's dark skin was bruised and ugly.

"I'm so sorry, Billy," Peter told the boy, hanging his head.  "I shouldn't have hit you."

Billy stared at him, sizing the boy up.  Both he and his mistress preferred Peter to live, so he wouldn't kill him, yet.  "What do you remember?"

Peter shook his head.  "Nothing.  Father told me things, but I still can't remember any of it actually happening."

Billy smiled, or at least he tried to.  The injured half of this face was too swollen to respond much.  "If you throw this much of a tantrum from just being told, yer gonna to be really fun when you remember.  You're dangerous, yer a powder keg with a lit fuse."  Billy unlocked the door and tossed a sack on the floor.  "We're still moored, we weren't going to set sail till mid-morning.  You should be long gone by then.  I've packed some food for ya."

"What are you talking about?" Peter asked in confusion.  

Billy glared at him and Peter drew back at the malice he saw in his friend's face.  "Leave, Peter.  Go away.  It's for the best, for everyone.  When you remember, you're gonna hate him.  And you'll try to kill him.  Trust me, when you become Peter Pan again he's gonna remember why he hated you.  You wanna see that?  You wanna see your father look at you with hate in his eyes?  Remember back when he put his hook in your shoulder?"

Peter did, and he felt sick at his stomach.  'I'll rid myself of that damned brat!' his father had screamed.  He remembered the pain and the fire in Hook's eyes.  "Yes," he said weakly.

"You'll hate all of us, all of us that helped him take ya.  Can you kill your father?  What about Mason and Mullins?  Smee?  How 'bout me?"  Billy touched his face and sneered.  "Well, I can see that one easy enough.  We can't trust you.  _I_ can't trust you.  You should leave before you make things worse.  We'll all be happier once you're gone."

Billy's words cut him to the bone, and Peter was overwhelmed by grief.  _He's right.  They'll be better without me.  I hurt Billy, what will I do if I remember?  "But this is my home," he said in protest._

"Go away, Peter.  The crew don't want you here and you're dad's gonna feel the same way soon too.  Go while ya still got more good memories than bad ones.  This is the last time I'll offer," Billy drew his dagger.  "You're not my friend anymore."

Peter's jaw dropped for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed in anger.  _I expected you to be upset, but I never thought you'd be so heartless.  Were you pretending to be my friend this whole time? Does no one here actually care for me?  "Fine.  Take care, Mr. Jukes."  He picked up the food sack and made his way to the main deck._

Billy stood by the cell and watched Peter leave, smiling wickedly.  Then the light dimmed in his eyes as the control left him.  Soundlessly he crumpled to the floor.

Frantic, persistent pounding on his door brought a very irate Captain Hook out of his slumber a few hours before dawn.  "Peter?" he mumbled, wondering why the boy didn't answer the knock.  He felt an oddness inside himself, and he remembered that Peter had shut him out.  The pounding continued and he got out of bed, flinging the door open angrily.  "What the devil do you want?"

Mason stood there and the expression on his face made Hook's blood run cold.  The big carpenter was afraid.  "We found Billy passed out in th' brig.  He's barely breathin' and he won't wake anymore.  Found her in a pouch beside him."  He held up his hand and showed Hook the tiny girl lying in his palm.  "Can't tell if she's alive or not, she's so little.  We're guessin' she's th' pixie you tole us about."

"Did Peter see her?" Hook asked, worried.

"Dunno, Cap'n," Mason backed up a step, then another.  "Pete's gone."

Hook stared at the man for a moment.  "Pardon, Mr. Mason?"

"Peter's gone.  Brig was open.  A dinghy's missin', looks like he took it and went ashore."

Hook advanced on the man menacingly.  "My son's jumped ship and no one on the watch noticed?  How did he get out of the brig?" he bellowed.

"Looks like Billy went ta visit 'im.  Pete must'a knocked him out ta get th' keys," Mason kept stepping back.

Hook seethed in anger.  He basked in the rage, letting it fill and consume him.  Rage he understood.  It was a familiar, comfortable feeling and was more useful by far than the fear that threatened to paralyze him.  "Ready the longboat.  I want a score of men to accompany me on a hunting party.  Give me the pixie and let me know when Jukes awakens.  Mullins and Smee are exempted from this expedition, they're to stay here and help the gunner.  I want to be ashore at dawn!"

Hook stood on the shore, staring at the boot-prints while he considered his options.  Behind him the sun was breaking the horizon, casting his shadow across the narrow strip of beach.  The missing dinghy had been beached here, and the wayward boy's prints led from it into the trees.  

"I want two men to remain here in case Mr. Hook comes to his senses and returns.  It could be he's just sulking right now.  If he comes back, I want him put in chains and tossed in the brig."  He split his remaining men into groups and sent them in search of Peter.  

For hours they combed the immediate area, returning to where they landed for lunch.  The break didn't last long, not with Hook growling and pacing, pausing only to stare thoughtfully at his hook, then continue in his pacing.  Most of the men did like Mr. Hook, and wanted to find him… but their fear of the Captain Hook was their biggest motivator.  But none of them caught sight of the boy.

Peter lay still on tree bough and watched the noisy men below.  He'd known Hook would look for him; jumping ship was a serious offense.  No one crossed James Hook and got away with it, not even his own son.  _But I'm not his son… It occurred to him that Hook may consider him an escaped prisoner.  That's what he'd really been all these years, Hook's captive in an invisible cage.  __Shut up! he told himself.  _He loves me… and that's why I have to stay away, so we won't hate each other.__

When he'd gotten ashore shortly after midnight, he'd been exhausted and his head had been killing him.  But he couldn't stop because he knew they'd come for him eventually.  So he'd fled aimlessly into the forest, stopping when he'd found this tree.  It had been inviting, friendly in some way.  It was very old, it's branches thick enough for him to lie on comfortably.  So he'd climbed it in the dark, finding this crook in the boughs perfect for sleeping, and allowed his body to rest.  For a wonder, he'd not had nightmares (_Probably too tired for them_) and had only awakened because of the search party below him.

So Peter lay still and watched the three men.  They really weren't even trying to find him.  They crashed through the forest, laughing at each other's crude jokes and complaining about having to waste their time hunting for Hook's whelp when they could be on their way to their next catch.  Peter glared at them angrily.  _Whelp?  I'll show them who's a whelp when I…  Peter took a deep breath and calmed.  These were newer men, they'd not been aboard long enough to know better.  But their next words caught his full attention._

"Ya think th' Cap'n'll flog 'im?" the largest man growled.  "'Breakin' outta th' brig, jumpin' ship, and nearly killin' Mr. Jukes."

"He ought ta hang the brat!" the second man snapped.  "If'n it were one o' us, he would."

"Ain't gonna hang 'is own son," the first man snapped back.

That's when the third one laughed.  "But he ain't his son.  The cabin boy's his prisoner.  Ain't you heard?"

They stopped walking and stared at the third man.  Peter leaned forward from his perch, wondering what he'd hear now that the crewmen weren't forbidden from talking about him.  "No, we ain't heard that," the second man said in confusion.

"Well, I heard Cap'n talkin' to Mullins, Mason, and Starkey.  From what I heard, he had a grudge against the boy and stole him from his parents or some such.  Made him his cabin boy fer spite.  They fought or something and he hurt the kid, that's why Peter lost his memories.  Apparently he remembers what Hook did ta him in his nightmares, which is why 'e screams so much in his dreams sometimes.  And it seems that Hook made him believe he was his son, as a final joke on th' kid.  Talk about one sick bastard."

The first man swore softly.  "I lissened to 'im one night when I had the watch at the wheel.  Wonder what Cap'n coulda done to make anyone scream like that."

"Ya ain't seen one o' 'is executions yet.  Cap'n Hook has a cruel streak, can be downright evil if 'e's pissed.  Probly be better if th' boy ain't found.  Hate ta see what Hook could do ta 'im this time," the second man said worriedly.  "Cap'n's pissed right now, sure enough."

The men resumed walking, listening as the second man recounted a particularly brutal execution he'd seen, last time some dimwit had tried to mutiny.  Peter waited until their voices faded away and the forest sounds returned to normal, then quickly shimmied down the tree.  The conversation rang in his mind, filling him with anger and fear.  Yes, Hook could be very evil when he was angry.  _If he makes me remember, and I become this Pan person again, what will he do to me?  If he hates me again, he will__ kill me.  But his anger was even stronger than his fear.  'Hook made him believe he was his son, as a final joke on the kid,' the pirate had said.  _Captain said he did something to me that made me forget.  Did he hurt me somehow, some way that was so bad I made myself forget everything?  He said he used magic… what kind of magic and what did it do to me?_  _

His resolve to leave strengthened and he took a moment to consider his options.  He knew there were towns nearby, they came to this stretch of coastline often to sell the cargo they stole and to buy stuff to smuggle.  Peter looked up at the old tree he'd slept in and gave a bit of a bow, feeling foolish but compelled to complete his little ritual.  "Thank you for your shelter.  I hope to find my way beneath your boughs again one day."  He paused and lowered his voice, "Don't tell anyone I was here, okay?  Those men are looking for me."  Chuckling softly to himself for his childishness, Peter made his way silently through the trees towards his destination.

Nightfall came and the pirates returned to the longboat empty handed.  Leaving two men ashore on the off chance Peter would return, the shore party rowed back to the ship for a late supper and rest.  All the men in the longboat with Hook remained silent, avoiding the Captain's glare.  Once they were back aboard, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief when the man went straight to his cabin.

Hook's shoulders sagged when he was safely out of sight.  He took a moment to check on Dria, but the pixie lay still on the feather pillow he'd left her on that morning.  She lived, after some effort Hook had detected her breathing and he hadn't been able to find an injury on her.  With no idea of what was wrong with her or how to help, he'd left her on the pillow and prayed she'd sleep it off.

There was a light knock on the door and Smee slipped in.  "No sign, Cap'n?"

"No sign, Smee," Hook answered, removing his hat and cloak.  "He's not coming back, I can feel him getting more distant.  It's rather odd.  I hadn't realized this, but we've never been more than a few miles apart, not in all the time since I abducted him."

Smee helped his captain undress.  "I been checkin' on th' wee lass.  She stirred a bit a few hours ago, but she dinna wake."

"How is Jukes?"  Hook really wanted to know what had transpired in that cell.  Kaylee claimed Pan couldn't get out completely, but what if he did?  What if Pan had taken over and attacked Billy?  But if that had been the case, what happened to Dria?  Hook couldn't see the boy attacking a pixie, he'd want her to take him to Neverland.

"'E's not so pale, breathin' steadier.  But 'e ain't stirred a bit.  Mullins's keeping 'im in that cabin and gots 'is own hammock in there.  Refuses ta come out fer 'is duty, so we let 'im be ta see wathcha want us ta do with 'im."

Hook found he couldn't fault the man.  _Odds, bobs!  I must be tired if I'm willing to let him get away with shirking his duties._  But he understood why Mullins was worried.  "Leave him alone and see that someone brings him his meals.  As much as he thinks he hides it, it's been obvious for years that he's fond of Billy.  It would have meant the world to the boy if Mullins had broken down and adopted him, but they love each other like any other father and son.  He's pardoned from duty until Billy's fit enough to not need nursing, and I want you to help him tend the lad so he can get some sleep from time to time."

Smee chuckled a bit, the sound tinged with sadness.  "Ya must be awfully worried, Cap'n."

"I'm upset, Smee.  What if something happens to Peter?  He doesn't remember how to live on his own!  He has nowhere to go and no one to help him!  Gall and brimstone, Smee, remember the last time he came up missing?  What if he falls in the hands of another pedophile?  I found him and Jukes in time before, but I might not if it happened again."

"I think th' lad's old enough not ta attract that lot anymore.  I pity the soul that crosses him in 'is current mood."  Smee wrung his hands as a different set of scenarios crossed his mind.  "What scares me is what if th' wee lad crosses th' authorities?  Peter Hook's wanted as sure as 'is father is, specially since 'e kilt that bailiff ta bust ya outta jail."

Hook froze.  _I didn't think of that,_ he thought fearfully.  That incident had happened only fifty miles or so south of here, after one of his contacts double crossed him and got him arrested.  Peter had led a small rescue party and freed him the night before he was to be hanged, and the boy had killed the bailiff in the escape.  Strangely, Peter hadn't been bothered much about the killing, and Hook had been too angry at himself for needing rescuing to bring up the incident again.  

There were two towns nearby, one ten miles south, one twenty five miles north.  Peter would surely head to one of them.  The boy loved the woods, but he was spoiled to beds and hot meals when he was ashore.  The southern town was larger, easier for the boy to pinch a purse unnoticed in, and it had several inns to choose from.  The northern one was smaller and further away, but it was safer.  Peter had been to both towns before, Hook had contacts in both that Peter had met.  "Please, Peter, go north," he whispered as he sat at his desk.  He wrote two letters, using vague and coded words his contacts would understand.  Basically he told them to keep and eye out for his son, to apprehend him unharmed and send word if they found him.  He made it clear there would be a reward if Peter was returned to the ship.

"Smee, find me two fast lads.  I'm sending one to Allencourt and one to Durst's Port.  If they're too tired, see if the promise of gold will wake them up."  While Smee was gone, Hook poured a glass of rum and tried to banish images of Peter hanging at the gallows.  _I'll raze the entire town if they harm my boy._

When Jeff Lorton and Kevin Smith came to his cabin, Hook's spirits rose a small notch.  Peter was friends with these two, but not nearly as close as he was to Jukes.  These lads looked up to Peter, even though they both were older by a few years each.  They'd do their jobs well for their friend's sake.  He gave each of them a letter and a small sack of gold.

"Peter and I fought.  You all know that.  He's upset at me and rightly so.  But I haven't finished explaining things to him.  The local authorities know him and he'll be hung if he's found.  I need you to find him first."  He explained to each lad the men they were supposed to contact and told them how long they were to wait.  The gold he'd given them would feed and lodge them for a month.  They set out that night and Hook retired knowing he couldn't do anything more at the moment.  For the first time in a long while, he said a prayer before he went to sleep.

Dria screamed as she finally clawed her way out of her dream and back to awareness.  She sat up in fear of the darkness surrounding her, and her glow flared as bright as she could make it.  She frantically looked around, trying to find the demons that had pursued her.  

"Gall and brimstone, pixie!  Dim your light!" Hook growled.  Her scream had awakened him to blindness and after the previous day, he didn't need anything adding to his headache.

In surprise, Dria complied and turned to stare at the man in the bed.  She'd awakened on a pillow in a chair next to his bed, but the last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the brig.  "Captain Hook?" she called softly, her voice unsteady.  She was still afraid of the things that had pursued her, and she felt like something foul and slimy and been mucking around inside her mind.  It made her nauseous.  She began to cry, shaken to her core.

_Wonderful,_ Hook sighed to himself, _a hysterical pixie.  At least now she can tell me what happened, if I can calm her down that is._  "Hush my dear," he called soothingly.  He sat up and put out his hand for her to climb into, then lifted her up.  "Bad dream?" he asked, recognizing the signs easily from years of helping Peter through his own nightmares.

Dria nodded, wiping her eyes.  "The monsters were going to eat me!  And she wouldn't stop laughing at me!"

"She, who?"

"I don't know!" she wailed.  "An evil woman, laughing!"  She forced herself to calm, repeating to herself that she was safe now.  Compared to the dream, Hook was a welcome sight and she had no qualms about being in his hand.  "How did I get here?"

"Peter's missing," Hook informed her.  He told her about Mason finding Jukes and her in the brig, and how they'd searched the mainland all day looking for Peter.  "What happened in the brig?  How did Peter get out?"

"I don't know.  Peter was going to sleep, so I decided to go to sleep too.  I woke up here."

"Damn it!" Hook growled.  "Can you use your magic to find him?" he asked hopefully.

"That's a silly question!" Dria snapped.  "You're the one that masked him from us!  Of course I can't find him with magic, or I'd have done it when you first took him!"  She took a moment to think.  "There aren't many fey nearby, mainly a few wood-elves, a dryad or two.  But I can rally them to look for Peter.  Just because we can't sense him doesn't mean we can't watch for him.  Once we find him we can follow him and make sure he's not lost again."

"Can you go now?  Are you recovered enough?" Hook really wanted her fit.  Peter had an entire day's head start on them.  If he didn't stop at the next town, he could be anywhere by tomorrow.  Hook shuddered to think of all the places Peter could go if he went inland.  He was counting on the boy's need for familiarity to keep him in the costal towns.  _If I find he's signed on to another ship, he's going to watch me sink it after I loot her and arrest him._

Dria hovered for a moment, and was relived to find that her nausea and fear were receded enough for her to fly steady.  "I'm fine now, so I'll go.  Don't sail anywhere, Peter may come back.  And please don't do anything silly like leaving without me if you find him.  Remember that Peter will die if we don't restore him."

"It's because I'm trying to restore him that he's lost right now!" Hook snapped in annoyance.  "Go now, and check in with me from time to time.  I'm trusting that you won't find him and spirit him away to Neverland, and leave me alone without my boy."  

"No, his mother has decided that Peter needs his father.  She's alive now, but we can't cheat death for long.  She eventually has to go back into the dream-watch or die.  If it weren't for the danger to his life, we would have left him with you and never told either of you we'd found you."

Hook stared at her for a moment.  _I don't remember Kaylee telling me this.  We were interrupted by Peter's nightmare, perhaps she didn't get the chance.  She was willing to give him up to me completely… "She's a mother to her core.  She'd give him up to ensure his happiness."_

Dria nodded, "She did it once before.  She knowingly entered the dream-watch, not from fear of death but to ensure that Peter and any other children that find themselves in Neverland would remain safe.  She gave up her eternal rest for him."  She frowned a bit, guessing Hook's thought.  "We know you're a good father.  We disapprove of your heavy handedness, but Peter loves you with all his heart, and you return that love.  You are a good father," she repeated in response to Hook's snort of disbelief.  "You're telling him the truth, knowing that he could leave you, that he may hate you and seek to revenge himself on you.  But you love him enough to put his own well-being and happiness before your own.  You've proved yourself to us… and to him - once he's calmed down and knows everything he'll see it too."

"Thank you," Hook sighed.  It actually meant a lot to him that a fey creature could say that to him, knowing how much they probably hated him for what he'd done.  _If his mother and the fey can forgive me, perhaps Peter can too.  "Go, lady, and see if you can find Peter.  He's moved on from this area, but I don't know which way he's going."  He watched as Dria flew out the window, then tried to go back to sleep.  _

After an hour of tossing, he gave up and went to the old journals, pulling out a random one from his time in Neverland.  He hadn't read these since he left the fey realm, fearing Peter would pick one up and see it.  So he settled back in his bed and read, laughing a bit and smiling fondly as he read about some of the pranks Peter had pulled on him.  

Eventually he drifted off to sleep.  He had nightmares, dreams in which he captured Peter Pan in Neverland and put a noose around his neck, laughing while the child called him daddy and begged him for help.  He pushed Peter off the crates and smiled as he strangled.  He saw the betrayal in Peter's eyes, staring at him accusingly even after they had glazed in death.  Hook awoke gasping for breath, the memory of his dream strong in his mind.  It was a long night indeed for Captain Hook.  __


	9. Mind Traps

Chapter 9

Peter stared at his campfire, ignoring the ache in his head.  He didn't want to go to sleep, but he was too tired to stay awake much longer.  _I miss father,_ he thought miserably.  Most of his anger was faded, inconsequential now.  It was his fear that kept him from going home.  Billy's words were still clear in his memory, filled with anger and hate, and it hurt when he remembered.  If _any_ other crewman had said that to him, he'd have laughed, then beat the shit out of the man.  But Billy, his best friend, had said it.  _I wonder if they've sailed on without me.  Loneliness filled him and he huddled under his cloak, sheltering from the light rain._

He'd traveled south to Allencourt and spent five nights in the Hawk's Nest Inn.  Pickings among the citizens were thin, and he'd only scrounged enough money to secure a meal at the inn.  The innkeeper had let him pay for a room and all his meals by playing his pipes and singing for the patrons.  He'd more than tripled the man's business the first night.  But there were problems.

His first night in the inn he'd had nightmares, but they'd been fairly manageable.  He hadn't been surprised that he'd dreamt badly, he usually did if he was upset with his father.  After his second night of nightmares, the innkeeper had asked him worriedly if he were sick.  Then there had been the third, fourth and fifth nights of the patrons listening to him screaming in his sleep.  Add to that his increasingly foul mood during the day and his drastic decrease in playing ability and the situation became intolerable for the innkeeper.  Peter had no illusions the man would let him stay out of concern for his health; if he'd learned one thing on a pirate ship it was no-one did anything purely out of the goodness of their heart.  He'd always thought it was different between his father and himself, but now he knew better.  

So on the sixth morning, he'd not been terribly surprised when the innkeeper had brought him breakfast and asked him politely but firmly to take his flute elsewhere.  It seems after the last three nights of hearing the boy screaming, his other patrons had moved on to other inns. 

_Just as well,_ Peter thought sourly.  He'd seen Kevin on his way to another inn.  The man had ducked into an alley, confirming that he was looking for Peter and had found him.  Knowing Captain Hook had friends in Allencourt and noticing the local authorities watching him strangely, Peter had decided to rough it and leave town.  

_I should have gone north to start with.  I didn't want to travel far, and I wasn't thinking about where I was.  I'm just stupid.  Father taught me better than this._  Peter rubbed his temples irritably.  A night on the road, five in town, and the last three camped a few miles north-east of the town – nine nights ashore and alone.  He'd never been alone this long before.  At the most he'd spent an entire night in the woods after an especially difficult voyage.  And he'd _never_ spent so many nights without his father.  The three nights his father had been in prison had been enough to make it easy for him to kill to get Hook back.  It had help his conscience that the bailiff had been a rather nasty, corrupt little man anyway.

His stomach growled so he tried to take another bite of fish.  The smell once again turned his stomach, so he set it aside.  The fish was fine, as were the apples, cheese, and jerky he had.  He just couldn't eat, and hadn't eaten all day.  _I'll go into town tomorrow.  Get some bread, try another inn.  Maybe I'll just find Kevin and go home… if they're still there and they'll have me.  He tried not to think about what he'd do if his father only wanted him back so he could punish him, and left him behind once he'd given him his lashes.  __No, he does love me… he might have hated me once, but he loves me now… he has to.  Absently, Peter wiped his nose, disinterestedly noting the blood he wiped away.  It had been doing that for over three days, it wasn't surprising anymore.  He figured if he left at first light, he could be in the town shortly after noon.  It was only a few miles, but with his headache, nausea and exhaustion he knew it would take three times as long to cover the distance.  And that was only if he didn't wake up feeling worse.  __I don't think it can get worse, please God don't let it get worse!_

He stared at the flames, trying to stay awake.  _Daddy, he thought in despair.  He almost could hear his father, could almost see him pacing in their room.  Anger, fear, and anxiety poured off the man… Peter jerked as he found himself falling over.  He'd dozed off again.  _

_I give up,_ he decided miserably.  He laid down in his blankets and soon was fast asleep.

He woke a few hours later to absolute blackness, screaming and writhing in pain.  "Daddy, please help me!  Make it stop!  The monster's got me!"

Hook paced his bedroom, agitated.  The ship was docked at Allencourt, and had been here for two days, ever since Kevin had sent word that he'd seen Peter.  They had yet to catch another sight of his son, but Kevin was adamant that he was sure it had been Peter.  Hook believed the lad, despite his crew's doubts.  He could feel it.  Peter was close, he hadn't gone on to another town.  

Hook had pulled some strings and got the local sheriff and guards in his pocket, but still there hadn't been a whisper.  Peter had been at the Hawk's Nest and Hook had spoken with the innkeeper.  He wasn't surprised to hear that Peter was suffering with his nightmares.  His sense of his son was growing again, but the link was only strong when Peter slept, and the pain and fear that flooded through that link scared him.  He had been _very_ irate to discover that the innkeeper had tossed his son out on the street.  _He's a boy, and he's obviously not well, and that obese swine threw him out!_  He was going to have the inn burned to the ground when he quit this town, but not until his son was in hand.  He didn't want to give the sheriff an excuse to keep his bribe and notify the navy that pirates were in his port.  

Dria came by twice a day, once at dawn and again midafternoon, to check in and compare notes.  The rest of her day she spent in the forest, finding the few fey that inhabited the area and having them look for Peter.  But it was a lot of ground to search and they were rather small.  Billy Jukes had come out of his stupor five days ago, but he still wasn't himself and was unable to leave his bed.  His concussion had been bad, but the boy shouldn't be this sick from it.  Hook had paid for a doctor to come aboard and see to him, and all the man could say was that perhaps his brain was bruised.  Dria suspected there was something else wrong with Billy, but since the boy wasn't dying she was too intent on her search for Peter to devote much attention to the gunner.  

Mullins had questioned Jukes himself, but it had been pointless.  Billy's last memory was of talking to Peter on the deck, just prior to being punched.  It was a sign of how out of it he still was that he was only mildly upset at Peter's disappearance.  He was listless about everything, but he was getting better.

_Peter when I find you, I don't know if I'll beat you or hug you!  I may do both,_ he thought in frustration.  It was late, Hook should have been asleep a long while ago.  Worry and anxiety kept him up.  Peter was dreaming, or at least Hook hoped he was merely dreaming.  He shuddered to think his son was suffering this much from physical distress.  Sudden agony poured through him, the terror so strong that Hook fell to his knees.  'Daddy, please help me!' The cry cut through his mind.  'The monster's got me!'

"Oh, Peter," Hook gasped.  Then he collapsed, fainting as his sense of his son disappeared completely.

When Dria found Hook that morning shortly before dawn, she was alarmed but not terribly surprised to see him passed out on the floor.  After seeing the condition Peter was in, she'd suspected Hook would be in a bad way.  She tried unsuccessfully to rouse the man, then gave up and went to find help.  She found Smee and Mason in the galley, and fortunately they were alone.  Few of the pirates liked seeing her, and she regretted she had made herself known to so many humans, but Mason hadn't been discreet when he'd carried her to Hook that day.  

"We've found Peter!" she cried, startling the carpenter so badly that he choked on his coffee.  "Peter's hurt, he's hurt really bad, and Captain Hook's passed out in his cabin.  You have to wake him!"

"Cap'n!" Smee gasped, not knowing if he should be relieved that the boy had been found, or alarmed that both Hooks were ill.  Mason grabbed the bosun by the arm and dragged him to the Captain's cabin at a run.

It was dangerous and difficult, involving a bucked of cold water, but they roused the Captain.  Mason jumped back in alarm as Hook awoke, sputtering and snarling, slashing with his hook.  "By Blackbeard's barnacles!  What the Hell are you doing?" he roared, wiping the water off of his face.

"It's Peter!" Dria yelled, getting as close to him as she dared.  Hook's face was livid, and she wasn't sure if he heard her.  But as soon as he registered his son's name, he sobered and stared at her intently.  "We've found him," she continued in a calmer voice.  "He's ill, and he needs you, now.  I don't know what's wrong with him, but I think he may be dying."

Hook gasped and cast about, trying to feel Peter.  There was nothing there.  "Where is he?" he snapped, anxiety and impatience filling him as he quickly began to pull on his boots.

"In the forest, north of the town.  He's not going anywhere, I don't think he can walk… he wouldn't even speak to us."  She flitted about, feeling helpless.  "Please, hurry!"

Hook glanced up at Mason.  "Make yerself useful, and go get us some horses.  You, Smee and I are going to collect my son!"

Mason nodded and raced down the gangplank, knowing where the nearest horse trader was.  Now wasn't the time to get caught stealing horses.  By the time he got back, Hook was on the dock, pacing and plainly agitated.  Even Smee was fidgeting, and the crowd on the dock steered a wide berth around the two men as they walked by.  In mere moments the three men were mounted and galloping out of town, Dria giving directions from Hook's pocket.

Hook rushed to the boy as soon as he stepped into the clearing and saw him.  Dria had warned him while they'd waited for Mason to return with the horses, but he wasn't prepared for what he saw.  Peter sat under a tree, leaning back against the trunk.  His hands lay limply in his lap, clutching his sword loosely.  His eyes were open and vacant, and blood flowed from his nose to drip onto his stained shirt.  He made no sound or movement at the men's appearance. 

_He's not dead, he can't be dead,_ Hook thought in panic as he sat before his son.  He felt at Peter's neck, reassured by the warmth and the pulse he found.  "He's feverish," he told Mason.  "Peter?" he called, turning the boy's head to face him.  Nothing flickered there.  "Peter, I'm here.  It's your father."

A slow blink.  "Daddy?" came the slurred, low moan from the boy's lips.

"Peter," Hook gasped in relief.  "Son, what's wrong?"

"Hurts…" another blink, "can't see you…"  Peter moaned, and his fingers twitched a bit on the hilt of his sword.  "Monster… has me… hurts."

Hook gathered his son to him, giving the youth's sword to Mason.  "You had nightmares without me.  I wasn't here to chase the monsters away," Hook told him, lightly stroking the boy's head.  "But I'm here now, Peter."

"Monster," Peter mumbled, lying numbly in the man's arms.  He couldn't see, he could barely feel and hear, and he felt like he was swimming in a sea of molasses.  It hurt to think, to try to resist the blackness that had engulfed him.  "Sorry," he moaned, "want… go home…"

"You're coming home," Hook reassured him.  "Sleep, Peter.  I have you now, and I'm not letting you go.  I'll kill any monsters that come for you."

Peter closed his eyes, though it didn't make any difference to him.  "Love you," he whispered in relief and allowed himself to sink into the oblivion, knowing the monsters could never hold him while he was in his father's arms.

Carefully, Hook lifted the boy up and went back to where Smee waited with the horses.  With Mason's help he was soon mounted, clutching Peter to him.  They rode slowly, careful not to jostle him as they carried the wayward boy home.

When they got back to the ship, Mullins had Billy sitting on the deck to get some fresh air.  The gunner watched as the Captain carried his friend aboard, his face blank.  Then he turned away without a word.  Mullins frowned at the boy's lack of reaction and turned to Hook.

"He alright?  He looks pretty bad"

Hook paused on his way to the cabin.  "I don't know," he said simply, "but he's blind.  I pray that all he needs is rest without his nightmares.  I'll send Dria to look at Billy when I get my son settled in."

"Captain?" her voice came from his pocket.  "I don't know anything about healing humans."

Mullins heard her and chuckled.  "Well, that may be true, but I learnt a few things in Neverland… like the medicinal uses of pixie dust.  Dunno if Billy-boy's got the right kinda ailment, but we gotta try somethin'."  He nodded to his captain and the man carried Peter on to his cabin.  Mullins looked at Billy.  "Hungry lad?"

"No, Robert," the boy said dully.  

"Well," the man said pleasantly, his voice tinged with worry, "you gotta eat anyway.  Wait here and I'll bring ya somethin'.  The fresh air is good fer ya."  He got a slight nod from Billy and went to the kitchen.

While Billy seemed listless and calm on the outside, within his mind he was screaming and fighting.  He wanted to grab Mullins, to tell him about the thing inside him.  His fear for Peter surged through him at seeing his friend again, and the lifeless way he lay in Hook's arms scared him.  He had to see Peter, he needed to wake him up, to apologize, to tell his best friend that he _did_ love him, that it hadn't been him speaking that day.  But the foul thing in his mind just laughed at him.

_Let me go!_ Billy wailed at it for the thousandth time since he'd awakened to the new voice in his mind.  _That Hag has hurt him enough, why are you adding to it?_

_*You know why,_ the voice purred, _I've shown you why.  If you stop fighting me, I'll let you have control of your body again.  I only have a few more things to change inside you and I'll be done for now._

Billy snarled, though his face remained blank.  _I'll die before I let you hurt Peter again._

The thing laughed again.  *_Your death will merely make it easier for me.  I have no soul, and when yours departs, I will merely have more room inside this boring little head of yours.  You know, your life was much more interesting on your first ship.  Would you like to relive that for awhile?  It'll pass the time._

_No,_ Billy whimpered quietly.  _Not again, please no.  _

_*Then we should reach a truce.  Quit fighting me, and I'll only kill Pan as a last resort.  You don't mind if I kill Captain Hook, do you?_  The taint chuckled at Billy's growl.  _I bet you didn't know you cared that much, did you?  You really should give up, this struggle is wasting time.  I have no interest in maintaining control of you, I just want access when I need it.  Its access I can take anyway, you're powerless to stop me, but it damages you less when you let me.  Our mistress was fond of you, and I'm only to harm you if you leave me no choice.  _

Billy fought the slimy tentacles that reached for him, knocking them away with cries of disgust.  He wouldn't be taken, this thing would have to kill him first.  And the first opportunity he got, he was going to kill himself in such a way that his corpse would be useless to Shimi's leech.

_Ahh__, look, here's you 'father' with breakfast.  Shall I show you just how powerless you are?  If we attack him, they'll blame it on your injury.  You may lose another loved one, though.  How many friends would be left to you on this ship if I were to, say, kill Robert Mullins?_

_NO! _Billy screamed in panic, feeling the small amount of control over his hands leave him.  His horror grew when he saw his hand grasp the hilt of a nearby knife, and saw Mullins squat down before him in easy striking range.  _Don't!  I'll let you, just stop!  Please, don't kill him._

_*That's my little doggie,_ the thing cackled.  _Come here, pup, and let us be done._

Weeping softly in his mind but unable to call for help, Billy quit blocking the things that reached for him.  Nausea filled him as the first of the tendrils began probing his soul, caressing him and leaving a foul slime everywhere they touched.  Then the taint surged forward, enveloping him, and Billy screamed as the tendrils pierced him, forcing their way inside, violating every aspect of his mind.

The parasite laughed as it raped Billy's soul, destroying the last of the boy's defenses and leaving him exposed to its every whim.  Then it was done.  _*Now then, that wasn't so bad.  You really should have let me do this sooner, it would have hurt you less._

Billy floated in the void of his mind, curled up tightly.  He sobbed as the last of the fires faded and the pain receded.  The thing was buried further in his mind, a part of him now where before it had merely been an invader.  It made him sick, it still hurt, and he knew he could do nothing to stop it.  _I hate you, he wailed in despair.  Something stroked him in a parody of a comforting pet, and he quailed at its touch._

_Poor puppy,_ the taint cooed, _you've had a rough day.  Go to sleep and it won't feel so bad when you wake up.  You might even like having me here.  And when the problem with Pan is resolved, I'll go away again.  Now rest._

Billy didn't even have time to say no before consciousness left him.  He fell into the void and became blissfully unaware of the foulness for awhile.

"Billy!" Mullins shouted when the boy's eyes rolled up and he went limp.  The man barely had enough time to catch him as he fell from the crate he was sitting upon.  "Billy?" Mullins called, patting the boy's cheeks lightly, trying to revive him.  "Please, Billy, don't do this to me."  He scooped the boy up and carried him to his bed, anxiety gnawing at his gut.  _If you die on me, son, I'll never forgive Peter Hook._

Inside their cabin, Hook and Smee quickly undressed Peter and checked him over for hurts.  The boy was filthy, it looked like he'd been rolling around in the mud, but his only injury was his bloodied nose.  Smee gave Peter a quick sponge bath, but Hook had to hold the boy the entire time.  Whenever he tried to set Peter down, the youth began crying out in his sleep, thrashing in the throes of his nightmare.  Hook didn't mind so much, though.  After worrying about his son for so long, he was loath to let the boy go.  

Once Peter was relatively clean, Hook settled into an overstuffed chair, cradling the youth to him as he did when Peter was younger.  "Smee," Hook said quietly, stroking the boy's face.  "Bring me food and drink, and fetch me the book from off of my desk.  I don't know how long till he wakes, but I'm not leaving him alone until he does."  

Smee nodded as he carried the book to his Captain.  "I'll be here with ya till 'e does, Cap'n.  Sir," he wrung his hands worriedly, "what'll we do if 'e don't get 'is sight back?"

Hook glowered at the man, "Don't even think about such things."  His heart quailed, though, at the thought that his son may be blinded for life.  "But he's my son, and no matter what happens, I'll be here for him.  But I'll never forgive myself if he doesn't recover from this."


	10. Recoveries

Chapter 10

He heard the heartbeat, deep and strong, and he smiled.  "Daddy?" he said softly, opening his eyes.  Pain flared through his head at the sudden light, and he jerked in surprise, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning.

"Smee, close the curtains," Hook ordered quietly, seeing Peter's reaction.  He was greatly relieved by that reaction:  if Peter's eyes were sensitive to light, then he could _see_ the light.  Peter hadn't awakened at all since they'd brought him back yesterday morning, and he'd been living in fear for that entire time.  While Smee darkened the room, Hook put a cup of water to the youth's lips, letting him drink his fill.  "Try to open your eyes again, slowly," he told the boy.

Peter did, hissing a bit.  He could see, but even this dim light hurt his eyes and his head began to pound.  But he forced himself to look at his father's tired, drawn face.  "I'm sorry," he said softly.  He winced a bit when Hook's eyes tightened, feeling the anger flare in the man.

"Now is not the time," Hook answered.  "You're not up to defending your actions right now, and if we discuss it, I'm going to end up hurting you.  Enjoy your reprieve while you can."  He frowned, noticing how Peter still squinted.  "Can you see me?"

"Yes," Peter mumbled.  "Hurts, though."

Hook nodded and looked at Smee.  "Bring me a sash or a cloth belt to make a blindfold."

"Ay, Cap'n," Smee replied.  "Is Mr. Hook hungry?"

Peter winced again.  Smee was extremely upset if he was calling him Mr. Hook in the privacy of their cabin.  Peter's eyes watered and he tried unsuccessfully to blink back the tears.  "No, sir," he whispered.  "Mr. Smee needn't trouble himself over me."

"Mr. Smee's troubled hisself plenty o'er ya," the bosun snapped, tossing a sash to Hook.  "Is ya hungry or not?"

Peter closed his eyes.  Billy and Mullins hated him.  Apparently Smee did too.  Hook was dangerously angry.  His stomach roiled, warning him not to even think of it.  "No, sir," he repeated.  

Smee snorted angrily at that.

"Bosun, you're not helping," Hook growled.  "I thought I could depend on you, but you're hurting him worse."  Smee snorted again, but he calmed a bit when Peter began shaking.

"Does _everyone hate me now?" Peter whispered.  The throb in his head intensified, but it paled next to the pain in his heart._

"Hate?" Hook and Smee repeated, both equally confused.  "Peter, no one on this ship hates you," Hook tried to reassure him.

"Billy does," Peter sniffed.

"Billy don't even know ya hit 'em," Smee answered.  "Why would he hate ya?"

"He told me no one wanted me here," Peter sighed, "He unlocked the brig and told me to leave.  He said you'd hate me if I became Peter Pan again, and I'd hate you back.  Said you'd kill me."

"Mr. Jukes let you out?  And told you that?" Hook said coldly, his anger shifting to a new target.

"Already had a food sack packed for me, told me you'd all be happier with me gone," Peter muttered, too miserable to notice the shift in his father.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch," Hook growled.

"No!" Peter cried, trying to sit up.  He gasped at the searing pain and clutched his head.  Hook's arms tightened around him and he relaxed in the grip.  "Don't hurt him.  He's right to hate me, I hurt him.  He was my friend and I hurt him."  

Hook felt Peter withdraw into himself and sighed.  "Smee, bring some broth for Peter.  He's too upset to stomach much, but he needs to eat."  When the bosun left, Hook sat Peter up and began winding the sash around his eyes.

"We found Billy unconscious outside the brig the day you disappeared.  When he finally woke, he couldn't remember going to see you, or the conversation he had with Mullins before that," he helped Peter lie down when he was done.  "The only thing we could assume was that you'd overpowered him and escaped.

"He let me out," Peter repeated.  "How is he?"

"He's still addled, but he's doing much better today from what I hear.  Now that you're back, Dria's helping Mullins with him.  The pixie dust seems to be helping him."

"Dria?  Pixie Dust?" Peter echoed in confusion.

Hook shook his head.  "We need to finish our talk, but you need to rest first.  When you've rested some more, I'll begin reading my journals to you.  When you can see straight again, you'll read them yourself."  Hook tugged the manacles on Peter's ankles, and the boy felt a surge of alarm that he'd not noticed them before.  "These will ensure you don't bolt again.  You're chained to the foot of your bed, and the length is too short for you to do more than use the chamber pot.  If I catch you trying to spring the lock, I really will beat you, headache or not."

"Aye, sir," Peter said faintly.  He flinched when Hook's hand settled on the side of his face, then relaxed again when the man began stroking his cheek.

"Peter, you frightened me," Hook said gently.  "I'm not used to fear, few creatures can instill it in me.  Every time you had a nightmare, I knew.  And it wrenched my heart that I couldn't be there for you.  You're a wanted man around here, and I half expected to hear you'd been hung… especially after you left town."  The hand grasped his chin firmly, "Do you know how many people I'd have to kill if you'd been hanged?  I vowed to kill a ten-year-old for cutting off my hand.  It would make your blood run cold to hear what I'd do to that town for killing my son."

"Aye, Captain," Peter answered, remembering how vindictive his father could be when someone crossed him.

"Don't 'Aye, Captain' me, boy," Hook growled.  "We're alone and you're ill, and I'm not yer Captain right now."

Being chained to the bed and blindfolded was disturbing enough.  Having his father looming over him in a volatile mood like this was scaring the hell out of him.  The seesaw between compassionate concern and barely checked anger was confusing and dangerous, and his headache and nausea were getting worse by the second due to the conflicts.  "Father," Peter whispered, shaking despite himself.  "You're scaring me."

Hook narrowed his eyes, thinking perhaps Peter was being sarcastic.  Then he noticed the boy's trembling, felt the panic building within him.  _I'm making this worse.  He's ill._  He sat back quickly, his anger draining away to nothing.  "I'm sorry, son.  I've had too long to stew over this.  I don't want to keep you upset, or you'll relapse tonight."  That was true and it could make things ugly.  If Hook didn't back off, Pan could likely come forward next time Peter slept.  While Hook remembered his vow not to fight Pan, he didn't believe Pan was coherent enough to remember.  He took one of Peter's hands in his own and felt a bit reassured when Peter squeezed back.

"I'm sorry, son.  I've done everything wrong.  You know how much of an idiot I am when it comes to matters of the heart.  I need you to know your past, so that when you actually remember it you won't be caught off guard.  But when I told you, I let my old feelings get in the way, and it caused a misunderstanding.  Yes, Peter, I did hate you once," Hook sighed at the pain he felt in Peter and continued, "but not anymore.  People can change, and we both have changed so much.  And yes, I am the reason you lost your memories.  The thing I did to you, I did deliberately.  I didn't foresee this as a consequence.  Once you understand the events leading up to that, you'll understand why I tried to do what I did."

"It's okay, Father," Peter interrupted softly.  "I'm not mad at you anymore about that.  If we hated each other before, but could love each other this much after, then I'm glad I lost my past.  It was getting in the way.  I do want to know about myself," he smiled a bit, "I'm too curious for my own good.  But I'd rather not know, not if it could drive us apart.  I love you and I'll give up anything for you."

"I know, Peter," Hook answered, touched.  "But if I don't restore you to your old self, you'll die."  He nodded at the boy's gasp and continued.  "I didn't tell you this because I didn't want to frighten you, but you need to know how serious this is.  I told you I used magic to take you away.  That magic is the reason we can sense each other, it bound us together."  He saw the strange look on Peter's face and chuckled, easily guessing what the boy was thinking.  "It didn't make us care for each other.  By Pew, you still tried to kill me once after I put the spell on you, but it prevented you from harming me.  I thought that if one of us died, the spell would break.  I knew it would hurt the survivor, and I prayed that if I died you'd be able to cope with the loss, remember everything and go back to Neverland.  I've been made aware, thought, that if one of us dies, we both will die."

Peter paled and for a moment he forgot about his headache.  "So if I don't become Peter Pan again, we'll die?  And if I do become Peter Pan, I might hate you and kill you then, too?"  It sounded like a death sentence either way for his father, and he felt fear fill him again.

"You might hate me.  Or you might forgive me and merely leave.  Or you might decide it doesn't matter and stay with me anyway – Peter Pan and I learned to get along fairly well together."  _But his mind was split then, and his Peter half is the side that became my son.  Pan never ceased to distrust and hate me.  Hook was trying to calm Peter, to keep him calm while making him receptive to listening and learning, so he would give any reassurances he could.  But Hook understood anger and hate, and he was thoroughly convinced that Peter would feel that way when he remembered.  It saddened him; he'd like to think that love really could conquer all and that Peter's love would nullify his hate.  But he wasn't going to give himself false hope.  It would hurt him less to accept it now and not be surprised later._

Peter nodded, then gasped as the movement made him remember his headache.  "Get out the book father.  I'll listen to the whole story."

Hook chuckled and gave Peter's hand another squeeze.  "There's my boy.  I was afraid he'd been replaced by a coward."

"Coward!" Peter challenged, insulted.

"Aye," Hook growled, knowing Peter couldn't see his teasing smile.  "I never taught you to run away from anything.  Even your old self never backed down from something he was afraid of.  But you ran away out of fear.  Billy Jukes's angry words shouldn't have been enough to make you do something as cowardly and stupid as that."

Peter opened his mouth, then stopped and reconsidered.  "I'm sorry, Father," he said at last.  "I was angry and upset and I let him get to me.  Feeling your hate, and then seeing that hate in his eyes… I couldn't face that.  And if was who you said, then surely the crew would side with Billy?  How could they not hate me if I cut off your hand and I nearly killed Billy?  You, Billy, Smee, Mason, Mullins… all the old crew are my family.  I'll die for you all, and I'll do it for love.  But I can't lose you from hate… I can't lose my family, not again.  I lost everything once and started over, I can't do it again."

Hook pulled Peter in his arms and hugged him tightly.  "I forgive you, son.  Will you forgive your father from being an insensitive bastard?"  He smiled at the muffled affirmation Peter gave and released him.  "But you're wrong.  You're very adaptable and you can start over again."  He resisted the urge to tell Peter that this had been the second time he'd lost him memory… it would complicate things too much.

"Now, lie down.  Smee should be back soon with your food.  He's upset, but its because he's been worried for you, not because he hates you.  And he's disappointed that you didn't talk to him.  You know Smee, he can't stay mad long."

Peter lay back and relaxed.  He felt better, despite the pain in his head.  Sure enough, Smee returned a few minutes later with his meal.  Hook went out on deck, leaving the old man to help Peter.

Peter drank his broth in silence, letting Smee guide his hands to the food and enduring the embarrassment when the man kept wiping his mouth.

"Feel better, lad?" the bosun asked when Peter had finished eating.

"Yes, sir," Peter answered honestly.  His nausea was gone and his headache was easing.  _I guess it has been awhile since I ate, hasn't it.  "Thank you."_

"Yer welcome, Mr. Hook," Smee growled.  He saw Peter's face fall and felt a pang of guilt.  He took the bowl from Peter and set a new bowl on the tray.  "Ya need's yer strength and some comfort, so I figgered once yer stomach settled, ya could eat this."

"What is it?" Peter asked, putting out his hand tentatively.

Smee picked up a forkful of the cake and held it up.  "Open yer mouth, laddie," he said gently.  "It'll help ya feel better."

Peter obeyed and grunted in surprise when he tasted the chocolate cake Smee fed him.  Chocolate was his favorite treat, and when he was younger Smee would always buy him chocolate cakes or candies if they'd been at sea for more than a few weeks, as a way to make him feel better.  And the bosun always made sure that Peter had a chocolate birthday cake every year.

"Thank you, Poppy," Peter whispered, smiling happily.

Smee smile back at Peter's use of his nickname.  The boy hadn't called him that since he turned fourteen.  "Yer welcome, laddie.  I was upset at ya, but I know ya've had a rough time of it and I ain't gonna make it rougher on ya.  I loves ya too much fer that."

"I love you too, Poppy," Peter answered and took another bite that Smee offered him.

While Smee tended to Peter, Hook went down to check on Billy.  The teen was sitting up in his bunk, sketching a design for an idea he'd come up with.  Mullins was asleep in his hammock, so Billy and Hook kept their voices down.

"You look much better today," Hook greeted, sitting on the foot of the bed.  He was beyond angry at Jukes right now for what he did to Peter, for encouraging him to run away.  His son's condition right now was all Billy's fault.  But he was willing to give the gunner the benefit of the doubt, a luxury he would never give any other man on this ship.  It was possible his wits had been so addled that he really hadn't known what he was doing.  And as upset as Peter had been, perhaps he'd misunderstood Jukes.  So Hook was down here just to check on him, not to upset him.  He had to keep repeating that to himself, so he wouldn't forget and strangle the boy.

_There's something evil in me Cap'n, kill me and stop it,_ he wanted to say, but he had learned well by now that it was useless to fight.  So instead, he made himself sound relatively cheerful.  As long as he cooperated, the thing stayed quiet.  "Feel better, Cap'n.  I'm not so sleepy and my headache's gone.  Haven't thrown up yet today, and I actually had a great idea for the cannons."  All that was relatively true.  Of course, the thing in his mine had chuckled in amusement at the initial idea he'd had for his design, disdaining anything that wasn't magical.  It had soon become way too interested in its destructive potential, and had since been perusing Billy's store of scientific knowledge.  

Billy shifted his sketch to show Hook, and began pointing out the modifications.  "If I change this, I can make the shot go further and use less powder doin' it."

Hook smiled, feeling a wash of relief.  He was fond of Jukes, but it would be a cold day before he admitted it.  He'd watched this lad grow up alongside Peter, and he was proud of Billy.  In addition to his natural worry over the boy, he'd also worried that he'd lost a valuable crewman.  Billy was the best gunner to be had, and if he were ever caught he'd likely be able to avoid hanging by working a deal with the Crown and joining the Navy.  _He should be the best.  He practiced for many years by shooting at child-sized targets at all ranges and heights.  If Billy was back to inventing, he'd be fine in no time._

"I hope you'll feel well enough soon to try it out.  I imagine you're anxious to be up and about," Hook replied, studying the sketch.  _This just might work._  "As soon as you're ready, you have my permission to modify one of the cannons to try your design."

"How's Peter?" Billy asked hesitantly.  He was worried for his friend, and he desperately need to know he was alright.  And he knew his idea of avoiding Peter wouldn't work, the thing would just take over and make him get close.  Better to see Peter on his own terms.

Hook put the sketch aside, taking this as another positive sign.  Billy hadn't really asked about Peter since the incident, and had shown a disinterest in pretty much everything until today.  Hook credited the pixie-dust in the boy's food for the improvement.  "He's finally awake.  I was worried he'd still be blind, after the way we found him.  He can see, but his eyes are still sensitive.  I'm keeping him blindfolded till he's recovered more.  I think another good night's sleep will help him immensely."

"Robert said he hit me," Billy said, "and that's what wrong with me."  Billy really didn't remember being hit, but he knew a silly punch wasn't his problem.  _*Oh, you've got the memory of him hitting you, would you like to see it?* the thing whispered.  __No, thank you, Billy snarled back at it.  _

"Aye," Hook nodded, "he was angry at me."

Billy gave a wry smile.  "Yeah, I imagine he would be, from what Robert said you told him.  I always worried that he'd be angry at me for helping you.  He knew I kept your secret, but for me to keep up your lies about him being your son and about him bein' evil…"  Billy sighed.  "I'd have hit me too."  He gingerly touched his cheek, "Just maybe not that hard."

"He didn't intend to hurt you this much.  He wasn't thinking at all, I'll wager.  It's still no excuse."

"I'll kick his ass for it later, when we're both up for the fight."

"And have you both out of commission again?  I don't think so.  Besides, you've both suffered enough for your crimes towards each other.  He's worried you hate him and don't wish to be his friend again."

Billy frowned.  "I'm pissed at him, yeah.  But we've got too much history fer me to hate him over this.  I was thinkin' he'd be the one to hate me."

"Trust me, he doesn't.  But he's got a good reason to think you hate him."  Billy looked at him in confusion, so he continued.  "It seems you are the one that let him out of the brig.  You gave him a food sack and told him we'd be happier if he went away.  You told him I'd kill him."

Billy stared at Hook, not knowing what to say.  The foulness leapt forward and responded for him.  "I- I wouldn't…" His eyes widened in a semblance of fear.  "Cap'n!  You know I'd never…"  _Oh, you're good,_ Billy thought when he saw the nearly imperceptible softening of Hook's eyes, proof he believed the act.  Billy knew perfectly well what his mouth had said to Peter that night, and he hated himself for being so weak to let himself say it.  

"Billy," Hook held up his hand, indicating the boy should calm down.  "You still don't remember saying that?"

_Yes._  _*Shut up kid and let me work.*_  "NO!  I remember taking to Peter on the deck.  Then I woke up and Mullins said he'd run away."  Billy hung his head.  "You know when he's lying.  Through that link you have with Peter, you can always tell.  I suppose if you're asking me, then you know Peter wasn't lying."

"That's right," Hook answered.  "I believe you let him out, and that you said those hateful things to him.  But I also believe you weren't responsible for anything you said or did that day.  You were badly injured and likely you were delirious when you spoke with Peter."

"Its my fault, Cap'n," Mullins said lowly, sitting up in his bunk.  "I shoulda kept my eye on Billy.  I left 'im alone 'cause I thought he was alright."

"We all contributed to this mistake, Mullins," Hook growled.  "I should have been more careful in how I told him the truth.  He shouldn't have been so childish about it.  You, Jukes, know him well enough to have known to leave him alone.  Mullins, you shouldn't have left Jukes alone.  Peter should have shown more backbone instead of running away."  Hook took a deep breath.  "It doesn't matter right now.  Too much is at stake to keep things complicated.  Just let it go and be there for him.  He considers the two of you his family, and he's afraid of losing his family over this."  He glared at Mullins next.  "I believed you and I need to talk about what _you_ said to Peter that day."  

Mullins flushed and looked away.

_*Ooohhhh, what did he say?* _the filth cackled, but let Billy in control now that the crisis was over.  "Robert, what did you say?" Billy asked.  He himself genuinely wanted to know, so he didn't mind obeying this time. 

"I called 'im a demon… mentioned somethin' about him tryin' ta kill ya before," Mullins muttered.

"So _I had to explain to him about the incident with Long Tom and his suicide attempt," Hook growled._

Billy stared at Mullins and processed what he'd just heard.  It was a bit hard to think when something evil was laughing hysterically in your head.  He thought back to that day, remembering Peter lying on the table while the men tried to staunch his bleeding.  'I'm sorry I killed you… wait for me and we'll go home together…' Peter had said.  "He tried to kill himself because he thought he'd killed me… and of all the memories you could tell him, you told him about that?  You both are a couple of IDIOTS!"  Billy tossed his blanket aside and tried to get out of bed.  _Quit laughing and help me, he snarled.  __*Why?*  Because I'm asking you to.  And you'll have more options to keep us from Neverland if I can get back in Peter's good graces.  He felt some of his weakness disappear and he stood on his own, swaying slightly.  __*Don't act too well too fast, or they'll think you've been faking.  I don't want them expecting much out of you when I put the leash back on, puppy.*_

"What do you think you're doing?" Hook growled.  He chose not to respond to the idiot comment and pretend that the sick boy hadn't said it.

"I'm going to apologize to my best friend," Billy snapped.

"Ya got no business bein' outta bed!" Mullins snapped.

"Then _help me, Robert.  I'll sleep better when this is done."_

Mullins looked to Hook and returned the Captain's nod.  Together they helped the gunner out of the bed, and Mullins walked him to the Captain's Cabin.

When the made their way there, Peter was alone in the room, propped up by a few pillows.  His head turned a bit when he heard the door open, but he left the blindfold in place.  "Dad?" he called softly.

"Someone here to see you," Hook answered.  Billy made his way to a chair by Peter's bed the men left the boys alone.

Billy stared at Peter's pale, drawn face.  He looked worse with the blindfold on that he had yesterday when they brought him aboard.  "How ya feelin', cully?" he asked softly.

Peter jumped when he realized it was his friend, and he turned to face where the voice came from.  "I feel like shit," he answered.  "I'm sorry, Billy.  I know you don't care, but I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Peter," Billy answered, "and I do care.  Yer my best friend and I love ya.  I forgive ya for hittin' me.  Will you forgive me for whatever it was I said you you?  I don't remember sayin' it."

"I forgive you," Peter answered, sniffing a bit from the tears the blindfold was absorbing.

Billy shook his head, realizing that Peter was still upset.  "You gonna be alright?"

"I'm scared, Billy," Peter whispered.  "Everything's so wrong now.  And it's going to get worse."

_*What a baby.  Is this what Peter Pan has been reduced to?*_  _Shut up! Billy snarled to himself, __He's worried that he might lose his family if he remembers.  Isn't that what you played on to make him run away?  That his love will turn to hate?  Smiling to his friend, though he knew Peter couldn't see it, he nodded his head.  "It might get worse, or it might get better.  You just gotta face it and handle it one thing at a time.  And if you need someone to talk to, you've got me."  He chuckled a bit.  "I know we're a little old for this, but we're both sick and we're practically brothers.  Move over."_

"What?" Peter asked.

"Make room.  I'm tired and so are you.  You're upset and worried, and ya need someone that cares to stay with ya.  And so do I."  When Peter slid closer to the wall, Billy climbed into the bed beside him.  "Now we can talk.  We're both comfortable and you can't run away."

"I can't run away," Peter muttered.  "Father chained me to the bed."  He rattled the shackles on his feet.

"No shit!" Billy grinned.  _*Oh this is too much fun.  But I'll let you play with your friend.*_   "Blindfolded and chained… you know I could really torture you right now if I had the energy for it."

"Don't make me beat you.  I can do it blindfolded," Peter growled.  Both boys cracked up, Peter holding his head at the pain but not caring enough to stop laughing.  They whispered together for a while until they finally relaxed and went to sleep.

Hook stared at the two youths in the bed for awhile when he returned to the cabin.  He smiled a bit, remembering how they used to do this quite often when they were younger.  If one was extremely upset, he would get up in the middle of the night and go to the other's bed to talk, and they'd inevitably fall asleep like that.  He sat at his desk quietly and picked up a book.  When Dria flew in the window, he offered her a bit of the food Smee had left him, and together they waited for Peter to recover. 

"Cap'n?"  Billy's groggy voice called from Peter's bed.

"Yes, Billy?" Hook answered, looking up from his charts.  He saw Peter was sitting up in the bed.

"He's sayin' those words again; I think he's still asleep," Billy muttered.  He really wanted to wake up, but he was so tired.  But the thing was wide awake, and it was listening intently to the words, and Billy realized with a start that he could understand them. 

"Don't touch him, it might set him off," Hook ordered as he crossed the room to the bed.  He helped the gunner out of the bed and let him lie on the other one.  Then he turned to his boy.  "Peter?" he called softly.  There was no answer, but Peter's mouth moved, whispering words in fey.  "Pan?"

"Cod…fish," the boy said weakly.  "Don't…"

"Lie back, son," Hook said as he put his arm behind the boy and helped him settle back onto the pillows. 

"Tired… give up," Pan said as he allowed his enemy to tuck him in the bed.  He gave a bit of a smile.  "Tell Peter… I said… I'm sorry and… goodbye."

"What are you talking about, Pan?" Hook asked.  He touched the boy's cheek gently.  The utter despair he felt through the contact worried him.

Pan leaned into Hook's hand, letting the touch give him focus.  "I can't… anymore.  I wanted out, but… never got out.  Tired.  Lonely.  I can go to sleep forever.  Become a memory too.  Cant die, but I can… stop being."

Hook felt his heart skip in his chest.  If Pan had said this a few weeks ago, he'd have been estatic.  But now he knew better.  "No!" he called, gripping the boy tightly.  "You can't!  Pan, Peter needs you.  I have to set you free, he'll die without you."

"You don't know… for sure.  Maybe he'll be happy…. When I'm gone," Pan whispered.

"Pan?" Dria called, flying down to alight on his chest.  "Captain Hook is right.  Peter can't live if you disappear."

Pan was silent for a little while.  "Pixie?" he said at last.

"Yes, Pan, I'm a pixie.  I'm here to help Hook set you free."

"You're why I can… think when I'm out.  Piece of Neverland."

"Really?" Dria blinked in surprise.

"Take me home," Pan asked her, his voice quivering.

"Not yet, Pan," Hook answered.  "Please, promise me you won't give up.  You have to stay longer.  For Peter."

Pan gave a sob, "Not fair… everything for Peter… nothing for me."  His body shook as he cried, the grief and pain flooding thought him.  "I don't want to!"

Hook took the boy's hand and pressed the back of it to his lips.  He needed to reach Pan, he had to make him stay.  "Soon, boy, I promise.  You've fought me this long, don't give up now."

"Your promises… lies," Pan hissed angrily.  "Promised forever ago to let me out.  Never came back."

"That was only three weeks ago," Hook answered.

"Forever and yesterday," Pan cried, but he began to calm.  "Pixie… promise and I'll stay."

Dria kissed him on his cheek.  "I promise, Pan.  I will help you get out.  We have to wait for that special day.  Please wait."

"Okay," Pan sighed.  "Still hate you, Codfish."

"That's fine, Pan," Hook answered mildly.  _I don't care how he feels, as long as he stays._

Pan frowned, "You're no fun… anymore."  He looked llike he was going to say more, but then he sagged and his grip on Hook's hand lessened.  His breathing deepened and they realized he was fast asleep.

Dria looked up at Hook.  "How could he want to give up like that?"

"I can't blame him in the slightest," Hook answered.  "I've seen his prison, and I've seen him inside it.  I amazes me the child hasn't given up or gone mad long before now."  He stood and turned to Billy, who was lying awake and watching them intently.  

"Is Peter okay?" the boy asked him.

"He's fine.  Are you feeling well yourself?"

Billy nodded as he sat up.  "Lots better now."

"Come with me and I'll escort you to Mullins.  I want my bed back."

Billy nodded and got up.  He gave Peter another long look before he went with the Captain to his own bed.  _*Pan could make things a lot more interesting here when he gets out.  That doesn't matter to me though, he's no more likely to get back than Peter is.  You and I need to take care of that pixie, though.  Something a bit more permanent.*_


End file.
